Little Conversations
by poetzproblem
Summary: After Raoul's dreams of a future with Christine come crashing down, Meg is left to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart. But can she ever escape Christine's shadow? Companion to Angels & Phantoms. Meg Raoul. Erik Christine in later chapters. COMPLETE
1. Over Very Soon

**A/N:** I originally wrote the beginning of this fiction as a part of my other fic, _Angels & Phantoms_ and the first two chapters run in the same timeline as that story before branching off. Both stories share a few scenes in common, although you'll find the point of view is slightly different. So anyone who read _Angels & Phantoms_ might appreciate the parallels. 

But you don't really have to read that one to follow this.

And since I'm playing in the universe of the musical and movie, I get to do what I like with Raoul's family.

**Back-Story:** Christine has realized that she cannot marry Raoul because she does not love him as a wife should, and she is slowly finding her way back to Erik. The vicomte is suspicious of this, but he cannot bring himself to question her about her true feelings for the phantom.

**Summary:** After Raoul's dreams of a future with Christine come crashing down, Meg is left to pick of the pieces of his shattered heart. But can she ever escape Christine's shadow? ALW/Movie-verse.

**Disclaimer**: I own no one but M. LeCleur & M. Ranier. But I do like to play with their minds.

* * *

**Little Conversations**

**Over Very Soon**

Meg Giry and Raoul de Chagny engaged in their first conversation of any real significance two months after the incident at the Opera Populaire. For anyone who may have been keeping count, the occasion also occurred nearly six weeks after the Vicomte's engagement to Christine Daae had been broken.

For those keeping count, it could also be noted that le Vicomte de Chagny had not been seen in Paris since that unfortunate day. His retreat to the country estate of his parents had served only to inflame the rumors of betrayal and intrigue surrounding the entire affair at the Opera. One would have thought that his return to the very sight would have been a momentous occasion. In fact, it was not.

Most would say that there was nothing remarkable about the day at all...and if anyone thought it odd to see the silent unmoving figure of the young nobleman staring intently at the ravaged Opera, no one commented on it.

No one except Meg Giry. She had been walking towards the Theatre Soliel where she had found a position as a ballerina in the chorus, at her mother's intervention, of course. And if the Opera Populaire wasn't entirely on the way, it was not too great a detour to cause any concern. Meg had found herself passing by from time to time to indulge in her memories.

On this particular day, she was surprised to see the Vicomte standing oblivious to all but the building. At first, she had thought him only reflecting momentarily, and had been certain he would sense her eyes upon him any moment, but he continued to stare unendingly at the abandoned structure. Meg could not help but wonder what thoughts tormented his mind, and she felt a wave of pity for him. And then a maddening irritation crept in at the thought of his inexcusable behavior towards Christine.

Sweet, lovely Christine who had only asked her fiancée for time to be certain of her tormented emotions. Time which Raoul had been unwilling to grant to her. That Christine's turmoil had been born of her deep passion for the Phantom of the Opera did nothing to sway Meg's curious mood.

Drawing a deep breath, Meg stepped closer to the Vicomte. "Pardon, Monsieur le Vicomte."

Raoul turned at the sound of her voice, looking surprised that someone would think to disturb his brooding. Meg took in his drawn features and dull eyes. He nodded and made an attempt at politeness. "Mademoiselle Giry. How good to see you."

"I wish I could say the same, Monsieur." At Raoul's raised eyebrows, Meg silently cursed her phrasing. She had not meant to let her irritation show.

"Excuse me, Mademoiselle?"

Meg shook her head. "I am sorry, Monsieur. I only meant that you look quite unwell. Perhaps it is the air here."

Raoul laughed humorlessly. "Perhaps." He threw one final look at the building and turned his attention back to Meg Giry, and he noticed for the first time that she seemed to be alone. "Forgive my rudeness, Mademoiselle. Are you walking unaccompanied?"

"As you see, sir."

"Then please allow me to escort you to your destination."

Meg hesitated a moment before smiling slightly and taking his offered arm. Raoul started to turn her south, but Meg stopped him. "I am headed to the north, Monsieur."

"Forgive me, I assumed you were headed to the Marseille Boarding House at this hour."

Suddenly his offer to escort her made perfect sense to Meg. He had been hoping to catch a glimpse of Christine. "No, I am headed to the Theatre Soliel. There is a performance tonight and I am in the chorus."

Raoul smiled sincerely then, and Meg felt her heart give a strange little flutter. "Ah, a respectable Theater. I am glad you have found a position so quickly. You are quite talented, if I recall."

The compliment almost made Meg forget her irritation with him. Almost. Still, she found herself smiling back at him. "I'm afraid it was not my talent that secured my position, but my mother's influence. The manager was quite eager to employ an instructor with her credentials."

"I can imagine. Madame Giry is well I hope?"

"Quite well, thank you."

"And does she approve of you walking unescorted through the Paris streets, Mademoiselle?"

Meg arched a delicate brow at him. "Maman has no objection to my traveling to the theater alone. The distance is not far and the evening has not yet turned dark. We always make the return trip together, but Maman must always arrive much earlier than I to work with the prima ballerina."

Raoul seemed to consider this a moment. "Forgive me, Mademoiselle, but would not the distance be even less if you were to walk directly there from the boarding house?"

Meg's cheeks turned a deep rose that Raoul could not help but find fascinating. More fascinating was the discovery that even in embarrassment, Mademoiselle Giry could find a fitting retort. "I find the added exercise does me quite well."

Raoul heard himself chuckle outright, surprised at the sound after so harrowing a time these last months. "Quite well indeed, Mademoiselle."

They walked in silence a moment more, Meg vacillating between irritation and intrigue. She could not quite understand how the Vicomte could be so politely charming towards her when the entire issue of Christine seemed to thicken the very air between them. Finally, unable to bear the silence, Meg found herself broaching the taboo subject. "Monsieur le Vicomte, you must forgive my interference, but you have inquired as to my mother and myself. Have you really no wish to know how Christine is faring?"

Raoul's gait faltered, and Meg nearly stumbled herself as their progress suddenly halted. She faced Raoul and caught her breath slightly at the barely caged anger in his countenance. "Mademoiselle, you well know that Christine has broken our engagement! However she is faring is none of my concern."

Meg's temper sparked, and she pulled her arm from his. "Sir, if your engagement is broken, is it as much through your own doing as hers. Christine asked only for your patience. Such a small thing to grant to the woman you claimed to love."

"Mademoiselle! This conversation is highly improper! But because you seem determined to cast me the villain, allow me to assure you that it was _Christine_ who informed me that she could not become my wife. That her feelings for me were forever tangled with her feelings for _him_."

Raoul's impassioned statement, and the obvious resentment with which it was spoken, served to infuse Meg with pity for him once again. She shook her head sadly. "Monsieur, do you not see? Christine's confused emotions were precisely why she needed time apart from you. To find herself again. Yet you insisted that she either choose you that moment, or she could not choose you at all. Your ultimatum made you no better than…" Meg did not finish the implication; she did not need to. She watched Raoul's face pale as the meaning of what he had done fully settled upon him. Meg shook her head again. "The theater is only a few meters from here, Monsieur. I will be alright on my own. I thank you for escorting me."

Raoul managed a terse bow. "You are welcome, Mademoiselle."

Meg turned away from him ,and Raoul watched her go. His mind was still reeling with what Meg had said. Christine had used very nearly the same words when she had told him she would not return with him to his estate. So why did hearing them from Meg Giry make him feel so much less righteous?

_No! Christine did not want me. I am not the villain in this. Am I?_

xXx

It was nearly another two weeks before Meg and Raoul crossed paths once again. And this time, their conversation was immediately preceded a bouquet of flowers which Meg very nearly walked right into. "Oh, pardon Monsieur."

Raoul lowered the bouquet a fraction as he reached out a steadying hand to support Meg's slight stumble. "Ah, Mademoiselle. It is lucky you are far more graceful when you are dancing."

Meg was so stunned to see le Vicomte de Chagny outside her dressing room, that she found herself stuttering a disjointed reply. "Le Vicomte…I…forgive me…I was not watching where I was going."

"It is quite all right. The flowers have survived. They are for you."

"M-me? I…thank you, sir."

"Please, Mademoiselle, these formalities are not necessary. I ask that you call me Raoul."

"Raoul." The familiar name felt strangely foreign on her tongue. What was he doing here?

Raoul grinned. "Very good. Now you will say that I may call you…"

Meg stared dumbfounded at him, thinking he must have truly lost his mind. "Meg. You may call me Meg."

"Meg. Your performance tonight was most enchanting."

"Please mon…Raoul, I had only one brief solo. You need not struggle to find compliments. I assure you I am not in need of them."

"But you should have them nonetheless, Meg. "

"Forgive me, but what exactly has brought you here tonight?"

"An apology, for my behavior when last we met."

Meg blushed in embarrassment. "You've nothing to apologize for, mon…Raoul. If anything, it is I who should apologize."

"No, Meg...you must never apologize for speaking the truth. It is a rare gift to have such…forthrightness."

Meg could not help but laugh. "Thank you for putting it so kindly, Raoul, but I know myself to be rather tactless at times."

"But Meg, there was nothing that you said that I did not deserve."

"But I had no right to speak to you in such a way."

"As Christine's friend, you had every right. And I must thank you."

"Thank me? For what?"

"For opening my eyes. I was such a fool to let Christine go so easily. She wounded my pride, and I struck out at her. Making demands I had no right to make. But you, Meg, have helped me to see the folly of my actions. I have made amends and Christine has forgiven me. For this I will be forever grateful."

Meg felt her heart sink to her stomach. Christine had not mentioned such a thing to her! In fact, her friend had seemed even more to be thinking of Erik. "Are you…has your engagement been renewed?"

Raoul shook his head. "Not as of yet, but I have told Christine that I am willing to allow her whatever time she needs if she will only allow me the privilege of being in her company once again."

"And she has agreed?"

"Yes. Because of you, dear Meg. Your remarkable friendship has restored my happiness."

Raoul kissed her cheek, and Meg felt suddenly ill.

_Christine,_ she thought_, I pray you know what you are doing this time._

* * *

Well…there you have Chapter One. 

Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome. Let me know what you think.


	2. Watch in Admiration

**Watch In Admiration**

Meg's next encounter with le vicomte was a strange one indeed, for she was in the awful position of knowing far too many secrets that she was unable to disclose. Christine had for months been mourning for her Phantom, yet growing stronger in her love for him, until, at last, they were reunited once again. She had returned from her encounter with Erik in a state of happiness the likes of which Meg had never been witness to.

Meg was finally beginning to understand what had drawn Christine back to him; for she had finally met the infamous Phantom of the Opera, and in Christine's bedroom no less. Although it had been an innocent enough encounter between the newly reunited lovers, Meg had been instantly overwhelmed by the connection between them. She had never before been so close to the man who had for so long been know to her as only the Opera Ghost, and to see him up close was a revelation. For even though Meg knew of his deformity underneath the mask he wore, his entire figure was strikingly handsome.

And the strange chemistry between he and Christine seemed to permeate the very air around them, drawing Meg herself into the spell. She had felt something similar once before, when the couple had been on stage together, but the intensity of that performance seemed nothing compared to seeing them together in open expression of their love.

Christine had changed so much in only a few months, newly confident with her own desires and in her power as a woman, and Erik seemed calm and content in her presence. It was difficult for Meg to reconcile his gentlemanly countenance with the heinous acts he had committed in his madness. Yet, she knew that darkness existed in him still...and more, Christine knew it as well, but had forgiven him.

So it was with that knowledge that Meg Giry descended the stairs to greet le Vicomte de Chagny when he again came to call on Christine. His renewed interest in his former fiancée had not been invited, but for Christine to turn him away completely would have been to risk discovery of her true heart's desire. She had only a brief time until her future with Erik would begin in earnest...away from Paris...so Meg was to play chaperone until then.

"Good afternoon, Monsieur le Vicomte."

"Meg...? Have we returned to such formalities?"

Meg blushed slightly. "I thought perhaps you would not wish such familiarity in public."

Raoul grinned, making a show of looking around the empty sitting room. "It would seem a private enough setting."

Meg's pink cheeks grew even hotter, and Raoul found himself once again admiring the look on her. "Christine will be down shortly. I hope you aren't very disappointed that she has asked me to entertain you awhile."

Raoul smiled sincerely. "On the contrary, Meg, I find that I enjoy your company a great deal."

She smiled shyly at the compliment. "As I do yours, Mon..." At his raised brows, Meg amended her sentence. "Raoul."

He grinned. "Very good. Now tell me how your dancing progresses?"

Meg grinned. "Very ill, I assure you."

Raoul gave her a very cross look. "Surely you are joking? You dance divinely, Meg. I would not be surprised to see you dance the lead very soon."

She laughed outright, the sound almost musical. "Then you shall be the only one who is not. For I assure you that Monsieur LeCleur has no intention of displacing his prima ballerina anytime in the near future."

Raoul shook his head with a grin. "A shame. It seemed to me she was a bit past her prime."

Meg giggled. "I would not repeat that outside of this room, Raoul. Yvette DuPres has spies everywhere."

Their easy laughter was interrupted by Christine's entrance. Raoul immediately straightened and stood, bowing to her and placing a kiss on her hand. "Christine. You look radiant."

Meg noticed Christine color slightly at his compliment, but in truth, Christine was glowing with happiness as of late. Meg could not help feeling guilty in her knowledge of the reason for that happiness. Christine smiled at Raoul, and then Meg. "What have you both been speaking of with such enjoyment?"

Meg grinned a little. "Only life upon the wicked stage."

Christine arched an eyebrow. "Well, I am glad to see my two dear friends are getting on so well, because I would like for us all to have lunch together today. That is, if you would care to eat with us, Raoul."

A flicker of surprise passed over Raoul's face that Christine would have Meg join them, but he smiled happily. "I can think of nothing that would please me more than dining with two beautiful ladies."

Strange, but Meg felt a wild little flutter in her stomach when Raoul looked directly at her during his statement. She shook herself slightly, thinking he was likely only seeking to make Christine feel more at ease. Meg's own presence was purely a matter of practicality. Raoul could make no unwanted romantic advances to Christine if he could not be alone with her.

As the three of them sat down in the parlor to a light lunch, Raoul immediately resumed discussion of the wicked stage. "I am actually quite glad to have the opportunity to speak with you both about some news that has come to my attention. It seems that the Opera Populaire is to be renovated and reopened."

Christine gasped, clearly surprised, and Meg looked curiously at Raoul. He was watching Christine's reaction very intently. For a few moments, no one spoke and Meg drew a breath and asked. "Have Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin not gone back to their junk business?"

"Scrap metal." Raoul muttered automatically, then grinned along with Meg. Christine smiled as well, but thought how odd it was that Meg and Raoul had such instant rapport. Raoul continued on. "They have indeed washed their hands entirely of the theater. A Monsieur Ranier has purchased the building and plans to rebuild."

Christine asked, "Is that possible?"

"The engineers seem to believe that the structure is still sound. Of course, the entire stage and auditorium must be replaced, and there is a great deal of fire and water damage to the interior. But Monsieur Ranier feels it is a worthy venture."

He smiled first at Meg, then Christine, and if it seemed a bit forced, Meg understood why. "Perhaps you shall both be able to reclaim your former positions before long."

Meg watched Christine's face pale slightly. Raoul was testing her, Meg felt certain. _He clearly wishes to know if her feelings concerning all that happened at the Opera are settled_. She cleared her throat and broke the silence. "And will your family continue as patrons, Monsieur le Vicomte."

Raoul looked pointedly at Meg, rather not liking her use of his blasted title once again. Still he smiled at her. "Ranier has already solicited me. Understandably, I am still undecided."

"Understandably." Christine echoed absently.

The table grew silent, until Meg forced the conversation to a more carefree subject. "Tell me, sir. What news have you of the high society? I simply adore good gossip."

Raoul all but gawked at her for several seconds while Christine tried and failed to smother a laugh at her friend's outrageous question. Then Raoul joined her in laughter before proving himself rather fond of gossip as well.

xXx

Raoul's second attempt to call on Christine was met with much the same subtle resistance. He had purposely kept a careful distance for several days in hopes that she would not feel pressured by him, but he had hoped to be able to escort her to a private dinner. It was not to be.

Once again, he had been met in the parlor by Meg. Although, he'd had to admit, her company was lately a very pleasant diversion.

"Good afternoon, Raoul."

A genuinely happy smile had lit his handsome face. "Good afternoon, Meg. It is always a pleasure."

"For me, as well. Christine will be down shortly. I'm afraid I am once again to be your entertainment until she arrives."

Raoul wondered if he was imagining the little blush on Meg's cheeks. "And you shall certainly not hear me complain." They shared a smile, and a strange little silence that seemed to thicken the air around them a moment. Then Raoul seemed to shake himself from the spell. "Tell me, Meg, how is your mother faring at the Le Soliel? I understand that Monsieur LeCleur is most pleased with her."

Meg's grin was rather wicked, and Raoul caught his breath at it. "Yes, most pleased. I do believe he is quite infatuated with her. Although she certainly does not encourage him."

"Well…I…that is…I hadn't realized…" The concept of Francois LeCleur being infatuated with Madame Giry quite literally left Raoul at a loss.

Meg laughed. "Do not fret, Raoul. It is all perfectly adorable." Then she grew more serious. "Maman deserves to have some attention for a change. It has been so long."

Raoul could not help but be touched by the clear love and affection Meg felt for her mother. He felt a tiny stab of envy that his relationship with his own parents could not be so. "She is truly blessed to have a daughter such as you, Meg."

"And I am blessed to have such a friend."

Christine's voice at the doorway snapped Raoul and Meg from their quiet moment. Neither had been aware of her entry. Raoul stood, his adoring eyes turned to Christine. "Christine, you look lovely, as always."

"Thank you, Raoul. I trust you and Meg have been having a pleasant conversation."

"Our little talks are always most enjoyable. Are they not, Meg?"

Meg drew a steadying breath and forced a carefree smile she did not feel. "Yes. Of course."

Christine smiled at her friend, her eyes filled with gratitude. "Meg and I had been planning to dine at Le Monde this evening, Raoul. It has been so rare that we both have the same evening free."

Raoul looked disheartened. "I had hoped…we might dine together this evening, Christine. I have business I must attend to in the coming week which will take me away from Paris."

Christine looked at Raoul with sympathy, but Meg felt certain that her friend was feeling only great relief at his announcement. "There is no reason why you cannot join us, Raoul. We are all friends, are we not?"

Meg grimaced to herself, wondering if Christine was aware of the tiny edge of sarcasm lacing her seemingly innocent words. Erik was certainly rubbing off on her. Raoul inhaled deeply, his troubled eyes clearing. "Of course. If you would not object, Meg?"

Meg started as two sets of eyes landed fully on her. Both pleading for her to agree, but for very different reasons. She wondered vaguely if one could actually suffocate from guilt. She forced another fake smile, hating this game more each passing moment. "How could I possibly object?"

_How, indeed?

* * *

_

Reviews welcome. 


	3. From My Corner of the Room

**From My Corner of the Room**

The unhappy duty of informing le Vicomte de Chagny of Christine's exodus from Paris had fallen on the shoulders of Meg Giry. Lissette, the young daughter of Monsieur Marseille who owned the boarding house, had breathlessly run up the stairs, swooning over the handsome Vicomte's presence in the foyer. Madame Giry had chastised the young girl for her unladylike behavior, and collected herself with the intention of speaking with Raoul. But Meg had insisted on going in her mother's place, feeling entirely responsible for his renewed hopes.

Raoul had been away from Paris for several weeks, having left on business shortly before Christine and Erik had eloped. Now watching him pace the foyer, Meg suddenly found herself at a loss. Especially when he caught sight of her and offered a warm smile that made her forget to breath for a moment.

"Ah, Meg, hello my friend. You look lovely this evening." He reached for her hand and placed a kiss on her fingers.

"I…thank you."

"You are most welcome. Tell me...is Christine in? The Theatre Mystere is dark tonight and I was hoping to escort her dinner."

"N-no, Raoul. Christine is…she is gone."

Raoul's brows furrowed in confusion. "Gone where?"

"I...am sorry, Raoul. She has...gone from Paris. Early last week."

Raoul turned his back to Meg, shaking his head in denial. "No. No, she cannot have gone without…" He turned back quickly to face Meg again. "Why? Why would she have gone now without word."

Meg shook her head sadly. "She...felt her only chance at true happiness would be to begin again in a place where her name did not bring such unwelcome recognition."

It was not strictly a lie. Christine's reputation had been damaged by the tragedy at the Opera Populaire and her broken engagement with Raoul. Finding another position on the stage had been nearly impossible for her. Only the Theater Mystere had been willing to take a chance on Christine.

Anger and resentment colored Raoul's words. "Yet she has managed to profit well enough from that recognition in these past months at the theater!"

Meg gasped slightly. "Only because she could find no other placement! You must know it was never Christine's intention to stay at the Theatre Mystere indefinitely."

"Of course I knew! But it was her own choice to remain in Paris! Why would she leave now when things were just beginning to right themselves? The Opera is soon to be rebuilt. And…" Raoul shook his head helplessly. "My feelings for her remain unchanged."

"I…wish I could give you a reason why Christine could not find her happiness with you, Raoul...but I cannot. I only know that she does care for you, and that she never meant to cause you pain."

"Yet that is all she seems to inflict upon me." He dragged his hands over his face in despair. "Or perhaps I invited it on myself, for failing to accept Christine's true feelings."

Meg could say nothing to that, and found she could not meet Raoul's sorrowful eyes.

Raoul noticed this and sighed. "Do you think I did not realize, Meg? That I, along with all of Paris, could not see Christine's feelings for _him_ displayed openly on the stage of the opera house that night? And then below…even as I took her from him…she could not help but look back with such sadness in her eyes. A sadness which remained in the few weeks she lived under my roof. I knew that_ he_ was the true reason she returned to Paris. And that she could not marry me because of _him_." Raoul reached for Meg's hands and held them tightly in his own, a pitiful desperation in his eyes and voice. "Now I must know, Meg. You must tell me…did she leave Paris for the same reason?"

Meg glanced away again. "She left to find happiness, le Vicomte." She unconsciously returned to the formality of his title. "That is all I can tell you."

Raoul would not accept Meg's answer. "But did she seek her happiness alone, Meg?"

Meg met his eyes reluctantly. "I…I cannot give you the answer you wish to hear."

Raoul released her hands slowly. "And yet, you have answered me, have you not? Forgive me, Mademoiselle, I am afraid I have overstayed my welcome. Good evening."

He bowed to her stiffly and moved quickly towards the door.

Meg felt certain that her own heart was breaking along with Raoul's. For as much as she wished Christine and Erik happiness, Meg could not help but feel as though the price was far too high.

xXx

Drowning ones pities in a sea of alcohol was not without its advantages. If nothing else, it was a temporary means which seemed, for a brief time at least, to suddenly make all things appear possible. In these misleading moments of drunken clarity, Raoul de Chagny was convinced that he held no lingering affection at all for Christine Daae. That her leaving Paris was the best thing to happen to him. That he certainly did deserve a love far truer and more passionate that she could ever have given him.

But always, Raoul would be faced with the painful soberness that would remind him of all that he had lost. Not the least of which was his pride. But a surprising thing began to happen in the weeks after Christine's departure. The pain of his broken heart began to grow somewhat duller, and not by way of the alcohol he attempted to numb himself with. But by a strange compulsion he had developed to return again to the Theater Soliel.

Raoul had been headed in the direction of a tavern which served a very fine Russian Vodka to begin his ritual once again, when he'd stopped without thinking in front of le Soliel. Or perhaps it had been the sight of happy citizens making their way up the front stairs and into the building for the night's performance. And Raoul found himself moving in that direction as well.

Monsieur Francois LeCleur stood just inside the grand archway speaking with several Parisian aristocrats, and Raoul suddenly wondered what his intention in coming here had been. He was not left to his thoughts for very long before LeCleur noticed him and quickly excused himself from his companions.

"Ah, Vicomte de Chagny, welcome back to le Soliel. I was not aware that you had reservations for this evening's performance."

Raoul cringed a little. "I'm afraid I do not, Monsieur. I was…hoping perhaps there might be an available seat."

"I would be honored if you would join me in my box. I am always happy to welcome a man who has shown such support for the arts."

The older gentlemen grinned broadly. "One can never have too many patrons, le Vicomte."

Raoul smiled thinly, but found himself accepting LeCleur's invitation.

Throughout the performance, Raoul found his gaze intently locked on Meg Giry for every moment she was on the stage. His mind kept replaying the last evening he had spoken with her...the sad pity in her eyes as she told him of Christine, and his own embarrassing behavior in her presence.

Even in his drunken ramblings to strangers, he had not revealed the extent of his damaged ego as he had to Meg. And now, he found himself greatly needing to speak to someone who might understand all that he had been through. Someone who would not ask him foolish questions about the damned opera ghost. And Raoul could think of no one better suited to such a conversation than Meg Giry.

xXx

His appearance back stage on that night was decidedly lacking in any trinkets or flowers. He simply waited patiently outside her dressing room with his hands folded behind his back. When the door opened, his eyes came up to meet hers at the same moment she noticed him there and she caught her breath at the slow sad smile that spread over his haggard face.

The weeks had not been kind to him, and his handsome features were pale and drawn. But his smile had the power to make her heart flutter madly. What was happening to her? Drawing a steadying breath, Meg closed the small distance between them. "Raoul?"

His smile grew warmer. "Meg." He took her hand and kissed it, ever the gentleman. "It has been far too long."

Meg felt herself blushing again. "Only a few weeks."

"It feels more like a lifetime." His eyes were sad, and Meg felt herself aching to comfort him.

"I…did not expect to see you at the theater again."

"I felt the need for escape tonight. A need I am still feeling, if only you would aid me in my flight."

"I-I'm afraid I do not understand."

He smiled a little more invitingly. "Will you have dinner with me tonight, Meg?"

"Tonight?" Her blue eyes clearly reflected distress.

Raoul's smile fell away. "Forgive me, of course you are previously engaged." How foolish of him to think that she would not already have other plans.

Meg laughed a little. "It is only that Maman and I usually have supper before returning home. I am afraid she is expecting me."

Raoul attempted a smile, hoping Meg would not see his disappointment. "I should have realized. Perhaps some other time."

Suddenly unwilling to have him leave without some promise from her, Meg boldly spoke. "Perhaps tomorrow."

Both his brows rose, and Meg felt her face flame at her forwardness. Then Raoul smiled genuinely, a sparkle of good humor back in his eyes. "Perhaps lunch?"

Meg smiled in return. "I would like that very much."

"Then you may expect me tomorrow at noon." He once again took her hand and brought it to his lips. "Until then."

* * *

Please review..comment...criticize... 

Thanks.


	4. Shine on Me

**Shine On Me**

_What was she doing?_

Meg paced back and forth in the parlor of the Marseille Boarding House, wondering how she could have agreed to see Raoul de Chagny alone for a lunch date. Agreed? She had practically suggested it. Her mother would surely scold her for such boldness, but she had felt some strange connection with Raoul last evening that had precluded her good sense.

Meg chuckled to herself. Were she to be completely honest, she had felt that strange connection for quite sometime now. She was certain it must only be a result of her compassion for him. It couldn't possibly be anything else. She frowned. Perhaps she _had _found him extremely handsome, and had openly admired him in the brief moments before Christine had confessed their childhood relationship. But Meg had thought of him only as Christine's suitor from that moment forward. And he still was, despite her rejection of him.

Yet Raoul was surprisingly easy to talk to, and he seemed to appreciate Meg's odd sense of humor. Was it so wrong of her to offer her friendship to him? Perhaps chase some of the loneliness from his sad blue eyes. And maybe she might also dispel some of her own loneliness now that Christine had gone.

When Raoul arrived at the boarding house, he was led directly to the parlor where he found Meg. Her face, which had worn a look of bemused contemplation, lit with a happy smile that caused a strange little jump in Raoul's heart. He couldn't recall Christine ever smiling at him in quite that way...free of shadows and doubt. "Good afternoon, Meg. I hope I have not kept you waiting too long."

She laughed good-naturedly. "Of course not. You've arrived just when you promised. I came down a little early so that _you_ would not have to wait too long."

He smiled at her sensibility and offered his arm. "Well then, shall we go?"

"We shall." Meg accepted his arm, and cursed herself a little for the way it made her heart flutter.

_Just a friend, Meg. Remember that._

"I thought, perhaps, we might lunch at le Cafe del la Paix. That is, if it you are agreeable?"

"I am. The food is excellent."

They walked in silence a for few moments, a condition that Meg had never been able to maintain for very long. "May I ask how you have been faring these last weeks? Or shall I avoid the subject entirely?"

He chuckled a little. "I suppose it's an unavoidable topic. I dare say I have not had the most enjoyable days recently." He glanced at Meg to see her frowning at him with concern, and he smiled a little more. "But I think that shall be improving in future."

Meg looked at him oddly for a moment before her expression cleared. "I certainly hope so. You deserve happiness, le Vicomte." His title was uttered with a teasing smile, but Raoul could not help thinking how very much he preferred the way Meg said his given name.

"Then you must be certain to see that I have it."

Meg jerked to a stop, looking very surprised. "_I_ must?"

Her eyes were wide and her mouth slightly parted…and Raoul suddenly had the strongest urge to kiss her. The very thought startled him, causing a frown to mar his features. Meg must have misinterpreted his frown, because her own full pink lips had tilted down.

_No, we can't have that! Not at all. _

He attempted a teasing tone, but found that his words were completely sincere. "Yes, you must. I find myself constantly laughing when I am with you."

Something very close to disappointment weighed on Meg's heart at his words. Of course, she was to be the comic relief.

_What did you think, Meg?_

She forced a smile. "Well then, I will try not to disappoint."

Raoul saw the little flicker of sadness in Meg's eyes before it disappeared with a bright smile.

_Idiot! You are overstepping your welcome in her life!_ _She is humoring you, yes, but she has no desire to be responsible for your happiness. She only feels sorry for you!_

No,that could not be all. Raoul felt certain that Meg enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed hers. He only needed to be more considerate of her. He should be making her smile more often. Yes, Meg's smile was certainly a prize to be sought. His next words slipped out without conscious thought. "Meg, my dear, you could never disappoint."

Her cheeks turned pink again at his quiet declaration, and her eyes darted away from his. For once, he'd rendered her speechless. His grin was completely beyond his control.

As they continued to walk toward the café, Meg was certain she was in serious peril of forgetting that Raoul was only to be her friend

_He is in love with Christine. Do not forget._

Unfortunately, her heart wasn't listening.

xXx

For the better part of their lunch, Meg entertained Raoul with comical little stories of the theater. His easy laughter made her feel somehow important, as though she had a special power to distract him from his sadness. But eventually, the conversation turned more serious, as the subject they'd been avoiding was finally broached.

And by Meg's own thoughtlessness, no less. She had only just finished telling Raoul of her mother's scolding of two of the younger dancers at the theater for a joke they had played on Yvette. He had been laughing earnestly, when Meg had unthinkingly related it to a similar incident that she and Christine had once engaged in at the Opera.

Raoul's smile had immediately disappeared, and Meg cursed herself. "Forgive me, Raoul. I wasn't thinking."

He forced a small smile. "You have nothing to apologize for, Meg. Christine is as much a part of your memories as mine."

"But your memories are far more painful, I fear."

"Not all of them." He looked into her blue eyes, noticing the worry in them, and he reached for her hand. "You don't need to choose your words so carefully, Meg. Her name does not bring the pain it once did."

Meg looked briefly down at the table, and when she spoke, her voice was quiet. "B-but, you love her still."

He sighed. "I will not deny it. I think in some ways, I shall always love Christine. But I am finally beginning to believe that her choice was perhaps best for everyone."

That brought Meg's startled gaze to his. "You are?"

He sighed. He had already revealed so much to her, why should he not reveal it all? "When Christine first told me of her Angel of Music, I thought it only a child's fantasy. In that thinking, it was easy to ignore the light in her eyes when she spoke of him…the tenderness in her voice…the…love in her very expression." He gave a short laugh of disdain. "And then, at the discovery that her angel was flesh and blood, fear replaced those tender emotions." Raoul shook his head sadly. "But nothing could destroy them. I simply refused to acknowledge the truth of her feelings. In my arrogance, I was certain that no sane woman could ever willingly choose that creature. Even in her freedom she clung to him. I thought that allowing her to return to Paris might finally grant her closure, and it did. Only not in the way I had hoped. I knew she had chosen him when she could not marry me as she agreed. I should have accepted it then. But when weeks had passed and Christine remained unattached, performing again on stage and still no sign of the infamous Phantom, I began to hope that I might have been wrong. That she might… " He forced another smile for Meg. "But you well know how the story ends." Meg looked away guiltily. Raoul released her hand and sat back against his chair as he continued. "And it would seem Christine's mysterious departure has added a new twist to the tale."

Meg met his eyes warily. "Has it?"

She knew full well the stories that all of Paris were whispering now.

He nodded. "Mmm…yes. A black coach in a dark alley , a shadowy masked figure, a secret elopement. Apparently, the Phantom has suddenly become a romantic hero. The beast finally winning the heart of his beauty. All his misdeeds forgiven in the name of love."

Raoul watched Meg's color rise. "They are only stories, Raoul."

"Tell me, Meg. Was it the mask, do you think?"

"Ex-excuse me?"

"The mask? The mystery behind it? I understand that some women are quite drawn to that sort of thing. The danger of it." He smiled blandly. "Perhaps I should get one? A fine cloak too. I might even win the girl in the end."

Meg gawked at him. _Was he serious?_ "I…you…you've no need …of such things."

Raoul knew he should not be testing Meg in such a way, but he found he could not help himself. "Would you have chosen the Phantom, Meg, had he set his sights on you?"

She stiffened in her chair. "I can hardly answer that, Raoul! I have never even had a suitor, for goodness sake, let alone been the object of such a passionate obsession!"

Raoul leaned forward again, his eyes intent on Meg. "Is that what it was…a passionate obsession? Or was it more?"

He needed to know. "Was it love, Meg?"

She turned her head again, seemingly fighting some battle within herself. Then she met his eyes again. "I believe…it is…love. On both sides."

Raoul didn't fail to notice her use of the present tense, and he slumped back in his chair in defeat, and perhaps…relief. "As it should be, I suppose."

"Raoul…when it is…true…real…like that…the emotion cannot be denied. You will find that one day. A true and passionate love…just as you deserve."

He stared at her in silence for a moment. She had used the exact words he had repeated to himself countless times. _True and passionate._ Yes, he wanted that. A woman who would be willing to give up everything for him. To be his completely. Christine had not been that woman. He had never owned all of her heart.

_But had she owned mine? Does she still? Or is she even now relinquishing her hold on me?_

"One day." He murmured. "Perhaps."

_And perhaps I might be lucky enough to find a woman who will smile at me the way…_

Meg smiled at him a little, shaking her head. "Not perhaps, Raoul. Believe me, some women do still prefer the handsome prince."

He raised a brow, a strange little bit of mischief suddenly fluttering about within him. "Do you, Meg?"

She blushed slightly, but recovered quickly with a wink and a grin. "I…good sir…prefer to dance."

Raoul laughed a little at her imperious tone. "Well then, fair lady, I will be envious of whatever partner you choose."

Meg's smile trembled a bit, her eyes sparkled and that pretty blush was deepening. And Raoul realized that strange flutter was settling around the area of his heart.

* * *

...not bad for a first date. More story to follow... Stay tuned. 


	5. Interlude One

**Interlude: **

**A Letter to Mlle. M. Giry, Paris - From Mme. C. D. Rousseau, England**

_My dear Meg,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. It has been only a few weeks since we have last spoken, and already I miss you terribly. Do not worry for me, as I am well and happy. Erik and I arrived safely at our destination and have just recently settled into a little cottage on the shore outside of the city._

_I confess, leaving France has been more difficult than I anticipated. Not for the journey, which was surprisingly easy.While I still do not like traveling by rail, I confess that the distance would have been much worse by carriage. And I had Erik to keep me company._

_It is the strangeness of being in a new place that I find rather daunting. Erik is no more comfortable amongst crowds here than he was in Paris, although so far, people have seemed generally accepting of his mask. He has even managed to secure a position as an architect with a man named Crawford who has a disfigurement of his own…a wooden leg. He lost it as a child to infection and is most understanding of Erik's desire for a normal life. Mr. Crawford was most impressed with Erik's designs, as I knew he would be. My husband's talent in all things artistic will never cease to amaze me._

_And his grasp of the language is unparalleled. He even speaks it with a perfect accent, no doubt due to his extraordinary ear for music. While I am picking up the language well enough, I am afraid it is with a dreadful accent._

_We are both slowly adjusting to this new life, and it is well that we should, for we will soon have a child to share in it. Yes, Meg, I am expecting. And I must confess that I knew this before we left Paris. I hope you will not think less of me, and understand why I did not tell you sooner._

_Oh, how I wish you could be here with us now. You must write me soon and tell me that you are well. That you might be able to come and be 'Aunt' Meg._

_I also hope that you will tell me that my childhood friend has not taken my departure very badly. I truly hate to think that I have hurt him._

_I will wait eagerly for your reply._

_Your friend,_

_Christine Daae Rousseau_

xXx

**A reply from Mlle. Giry to Mme Rousseau**

_Dear Christine,_

_I received your letter, and I found my jaw on the floor. I am so happy for you. Oh, how I wish I could be there. I imagine you will be quite as round as a pumpkin before long. I hope you are both well. And Erik, of course._

_I would like nothing more than to be able to visit before your child arrives, but I can make no promises. Although I am sure Maman might by able to persuade Monsieur LeCleur to grant us both leave from the Theater. They are becoming quite friendly. It is strange to see Maman so happy again._

_I almost hesitate to mention the subject of le vicomte. I confess that he did not take your absence well at all. I told him as little as possible, but he seemed to somehow sense the true reason for your leaving._

_At first, I was concerned for what he might do. His heart was broken and his pride damaged, I think. But now I feel I can assure you that Raoul will cause no grief to you or to Erik._

_We have spoken on several occasions, and Raoul seems everyday to become more content with himself. He has even been able to jest about the whole affair. If you can believe, he asked me just the other day if I thought he might have better luck with women if he were to get a mask and cloak!_

_As if he would need any help._

_I am certain Erik will find that most humorous._

_Please write again soon and tell me how your little family is faring! I am eager for any news._

_Until then,_

_Meg_

* * *

Reviews and critiques always welcome. 


	6. With Starry Eyes

**With Starry Eyes**

Raoul found himself lunching with Meg on many afternoons in the following weeks. And he was present at most of her performances. He wanted nothing more than to have the privilege of escorting her to dinner as well, but she would always refuse citing her previous commitment to her mother. And she would refuse him even on those evenings that the Theater Soliel was dark.

It only took a few repetitions of this cycle for Raoul to realize that Meg had yet to inform Madame Giry of the time she had been spending in his company. When he inquired as to why, Meg had blushed and stuttered and finally confessed that her mother would certainly not approve of their friendship. And though Raoul had hated to admit it, he knew that the older woman would certainly think him a cad for pursuing a relationship with Meg so soon after his previous closeness with Christine. Still, he could not help resenting that Meg did not even seem inclined to broach the subject with her mother at all.

Despite Meg's rather adept avoidance of her mother's prying eyes, Madame Giry did indeed stumble upon her daughter's secretive meetings with the vicomte. And she certainly was not pleased.

Raoul had been chastely bidding Meg adieu, kissing her hand and promising to attend her next performance just as he had each afternoon, when Madame Giry had unexpectedly entered the parlor. Meg had jumped guiltily away from Raoul, and he had felt the sting of that action acutely. Madame's curt greeting and dismissal of him had been no better, but Meg's eyes had begged him to just go, and so he had.

Stunned, Raoul had wandered away from the boarding house wondering why he should suddenly feel like some guilty lothario caught making love to an innocent. And then his thoughts had ground to a halt, focusing entirely on one thing…making love. To Meg. The wicked images that had come with that thought had Raoul nearly plowing into another gentleman on the sidewalk. He was highly ashamed of the path his traitorous mind had taken, still he could not force the thoughts from his head. Nor the desire from his heart. _Dear God, was he…falling in love with Meg? _

xXx

Meanwhile, Meg had been battling her own shame, yet hardly understanding why she should. Her mother had dismissed the Vicomte de Chagny from her presence as if he was a common thief.

"Just what do you think that you are doing, child?"

"Maman, please, it isn't what you are thinking?"

"No? Did I not just see you being made love to in broad daylight by le Vicomte?"

Meg turned red. _Made love to?_

"Maman! He was kissing my hand, as every gentleman does! It was merely a gesture of friendship."

"Friendship? Meg, are you truly so naïve as to ignore the blatant intent in a man's eyes?"

_Intent? Was she serious?_

"Raoul has no intent to misuse me, Maman. We are only friends, engaging in some pleasant conversation from time to time."

"On what subject?"

Meg cringed inwardly. "You know what subject, Maman." She shook her head and sighed. "He still loves Christine. He only needs to speak to someone who will understand."

Antoinette eyed her daughter carefully, wondering if Meg even realized the affection with which she spoke of le vicomte. "And do you understand, Meg?"

The meaning in her mother's tone was unmistakable. _He will never care for you, child. Do not let him compromise all your hard work._

"Yes, Maman. I understand. Don't worry so. I am not some innocent little lamb in need of rescue."

Meg kissed her mother softly on the cheek, and made her way towards the upstairs. And Antoinette could not help but worry that her only daughter may be more in need of rescue than ever before.

xXx

When Raoul attended that evening's performance at le Soliel, his mind was still occupied with thoughts of Meg. He was suddenly questioning his every intention towards her. At first, she had merely been Christine's friend with whom he'd shared a few rather pleasant little talks. He had sought her out after Christine's departure for that very reason--their shared link to Christine. But it had not been long before he'd begun to think of Meg as his friend. And now he cared very deeply for her. But was it love?

Certainly, he'd realized from the start that she was a beautiful woman. Unlike Christine's quiet ethereal beauty, Meg radiated a vibrant loveliness both in appearance and spirit. Her blue eyes were always alit with good humor and intelligence, and Raoul had found himself drowning in them on more than one occasion. _Had that ever happened with Christine?_

No_--_he realized sourly--Christine's eyes had always been filled with sadness and secrets. Even when she'd looked upon him with love, there had been shadows in the dark depths of her eyes. The Phantom's shadow, Raoul was certain.

Meg's eyes held no secrets from him--indeed--he felt as though he could see into her very soul. And her soul called out to him on some mysterious level that he did not fully understand. He only knew that being near her seemed to ease something within him.

At least, he had been at ease. Until he had begun to engage in fantasies of holding her close to him, tasting her sweet lips with his own. Now his body was laced with tension and his heart dancing wildly. Seeing her upon the stage, dressed in a rather revealing costume cut a little too low at the top and a little to high at the bottom, did nothing to relieve his current state of unrest.

But finding Madame Giry standing guard outside Meg's dressing room after the performance certainly worked wonders at halting his improper thoughts.

Raoul politely smiled and made a little bow, but the woman just arched one eyebrow and looked down her nose at him. He cleared his throat a little. "Madame Giry. A pleasure to see you again."

"Monsieur le Vicomte. I trust you enjoyed tonight's performance."

"Yes, Madame, very much indeed."

"And may I assume that both your presence at this dressing room and the bouquet in your hand are intended to congratulate my daughter on her dancing this evening?"

Raoul felt his face color at her condescending tone. "You may, Madame."

"Then I am certain, Monsieur, that you must realize by now the great talent that she possesses. Her career is truly beginning to flourish, and I would hate for her to be…distracted."

Her pointed look left no misunderstanding her meaning.

Raoul's spine stiffened, and his voice grew a touch defensive. "Madame, I would never dream of interfering with Meg's career. I believe you must have misunderstood our friendship."

She glared at him slightly. "Have I, Monsieur?"

Raoul forced a calm he didn't feel. "I assure you my intentions are purely honorable, Madame."

"See that they remain so. Good evening, monsieur." And with that she walked away, leaving Raoul staring down dejectedly at the pink roses in his hand.

Madame Giry's warning had been obvious. _Do not disrupt Meg's career._

Raoul growled, clenching his fist around the flower stems. His intentions with Meg_ were_ honorable! He would never do anything to harm her. And he knew how much she loved to dance.

Suddenly he felt all of his anger slip away. Of course, Meg loved to dance. Even Raoul's _honorable_ intentions would be unwelcome. Christine had balked at the idea of giving up the stage, certainly Meg would be no more accepting of the notion. He shook his head sadly, thinking himself a fool to have become so quickly attached.

When the dressing room door opened just moments later, Meg found Raoul staring oddly at the roses in his hand, and her heart gave a little jump.

"Raoul?"

His eyes came up slowly, and the sadness there had her immediately concerned. But before she could comment, the melancholy cleared and was replaced by a warmth that robbed Meg of all thought.

"Meg. I…you were…quite exquisite tonight."

She blushed prettily. "Thank you."

Raoul continued to stare at her, taking in every delicate line of her face. Meg's smile quivered just a little under his scrutiny, and she laughed nervously. "The roses are lovely."

Raoul shook himself. _The roses, idiot!_

"For you, of course." He handed them to her, and as she took them, her fingers brushed his. A little spark of electricity shot the length of his arm.

Meg breathed in the sweet scent of the roses and a sensual delight passed over her features. Then she smiled cheekily at Raoul. "You really need not bring me flowers, Raoul. I am perfectly content with outrageous praise of my wondrous skill and grace."

Raoul laughed heartily, bowed grandly. "Then mademoiselle, let me shower you with compliments."

Their happy laughter carried through the hallways, turning a good number of heads. Madame Giry watched from a little distance, shaking her head and silently bidding adieu to all the dreams she had held for her daughter on the stage.

xXx

That evening marked a change in the couple's routine. Antoinette Giry's discovery of the growing bond between them provided an opportunity that Meg had not previously permitted. And Raoul finally had the pleasure of escorting her to dinner.

The only shadow over his happiness was her mother's obvious displeasure. Raoul could not help but feel the need to win Madame Giry's good favor, and so he sought Meg's advice in the carriage.

"Meg, you know how much I enjoy your company. But I do not like thinking that I might have caused some difficulty between you and your mother."

Meg smiled reassuringly. "You have caused nothing, Raoul. Maman is only a little overprotective of me. She…" Meg blushed a little, and looked away, seeming to struggle with some decision. Then she returned her liquid gaze to him. "I must tell you something, and you must promise you will not think less of me. Or of Maman."

Raoul was memorized by the urgent determination in Meg's eyes, and his protective instincts were immediately aroused. "On my honor, Meg. Nothing could make me think less of you."

Meg drew a breath, looking deeply into his clear blue eyes. She believed him. "Maman danced at the Opera when she was younger. She had a promising career, and could have gone far. But then she met my father. He…he was a musician. They were both very young and in love and…" Meg paused again, and blushed a little more before rushing on. "They had to be married, Raoul."

Meg looked to Raoul, seeing only understanding in his faithful gaze. "I suppose she transferred her dreams for herself onto me. And they are my dreams as well, so it hasn't been a hardship. But she sees herself in me, I think, and doesn't wish for me to make her mistakes again."

Raoul nodded slowly. If Madame Giry's words to him on this subject had not been message enough, Meg's confession was enough to dampen his overeager emotions. He must proceed carefully with this…friendship. He could never be responsible for taking away Meg's dreams.

xXx

Raoul had made a conscious effort put a little distance between himself and Meg in the following days. He had informed her of a need to return to his family's estate on business, and it had not been strictly a ruse. He had been neglecting his duties in order to spend time with Meg, and if she had been distressed by his announcement, she had not made her displeasure known to him. A fact that had disheartened the vicomte even more.

In fact, Meg _had_ been upset by his withdrawal from her, convinced that her confession had driven him away. What had she been thinking, telling a nobleman about her own illicit beginnings? Of course he would not wish to continue their…what? It was not as if they were engaged in some grand romance. Raoul's heart, Meg was certain, still belonged solely to Christine...and if her own heart was wanting more, well, she had warned herself not fall in love with him. The problem, of course, was that she really hadn't had a choice in the matter.

* * *


	7. Rain a Friendly Storm

**Rain A Friendly Storm**

It was only two days after Raoul's departure from Paris that Meg received an unexpected visitor. Lissette Marseille had, in her usual girlish way, rushed up the stairs to Meg's room. "Meg! Meg! There is a gentleman here to call on you."

Meg's heart began to beat wildly. "Le Vicomte?" Raoul had only just left Paris, she could not imagine he would have returned so soon.

Lissette shook her head, a wide grinning splitting her face. "No. But this one's just as handsome. He said he's come to talk to you about the Opera. Monsieur Ranier, I think he said."

The girl blushed madly. "But I was too busy looking at him to catch every word."

"Monsieur Ranier?" Meg instantly recognized the name. The new owner of the Opera Populaire. _Come to see her? How strange? And how forward of him?_ But, as always, Meg's curiosity overrode her propriety, and she made her way down to the parlor.

The first thing she noticed when she entered the room was the impressive figure of Monsieur Ranier. He was easily taller than Raoul, and his back was wide and strong and covered with an impeccable tailored coat. Almost as though he sensed her entry, he turned--and Meg couldn't help but pause at the sight of him.

Lissette certainly had not been exaggerating. Monsieur Ranier was incredibly handsome. His hair was jet black and cut in a short style,but the cut didn't quite tame the waves that curled about his brow in a very pleasing way. His eyes were perhaps the most vibrant shade of green that Meg had ever seen--like emeralds. And they were set in an angular face of sculpted lines and perfect symmetry.

He smiled rakishly, full sensuous lips curving invitingly. "Mademoiselle Giry." His voice was deep and melodic. "You are even more beautiful up close than you are upon the stage."

Meg forced herself to stop staring at him and returned his smile. "I'm afraid that you have me at a disadvantage, Monsieur."

His smile turned a little guilty. "Forgive me, Mademoiselle. My name is Jean Ranier. I realize my calling upon you in this way is a little forward, but I assure you my intentions are pure. I have recently had the good fortune to acquire the Opera Populaire."

Meg nodded. "Yes, I have heard you are renovating the building."

"So then my presence here cannot be entirely unexpected, Mademoiselle."

"I assure you it is, sir. But as you are here now, might I inquire as to how the work is progressing?"

Monsieur Ranier laughed a little. "Slowly, I'm afraid. But I expect the stage to be ready in a few months. All I am in need of now is a cast to fill it."

_Ah, and there it was._ The possibility of returning to the Opera was one Meg had been both coveting and dreading. "So you have come to offer me a job?"

He nodded. "I have seen you perform several times at le Soliel, and you are quite a remarkable dancer. And I have been told you are a fine actress and can sing a little as well."

Meg laughed at that. "A very little, indeed."

His smile was slow, and his eyes let with an pure male appreciation. "Even so, I would be honored to have you."

Something about the inflection of his voice over the double entendre caused a shiver to pass over Meg. "I…am quite happy at the le Soliel, Monsieur."

He looked set to argue, but then he shook his head and smiled. "Mmm. I understand. I hope you will at least consider this initial offer, Mademoiselle. And I assure you it will not be my final offer."

"Of course I will consider it, Monsieur."

He smiled and took her hand, placing a lingering kiss there. "Please, I would like very much if you were to call me Jean. Especially if we are to have dinner tomorrow evening."

Meg stiffened in shock. _My, but he was forward, wasn't he? _"I do not recall agreeing to dinner, Monsieur."

He laughed. "Will you? I would very much like to discuss my plans…for your career."

Meg did not miss the telling pause in his words. She was slightly annoyed at his blatant flirtation, but still strangely flattered by it. And curious. She couldn't help but be interested in returning to the Opera--the opportunity was too good to simply reject outright. And Jean Ranier was certainly an attractive, enigmatic man._ Perhaps she should…_

_No!_ She could not do such a thing to Raoul! But as soon as the thought entered her mind, she gently admonished herself for it. Her confusing feelings for Raoul were entirely unrequited. She was strictly his friend. _But this man…_

Before she even realized what she was saying, she heard herself agreeing to dinner. "I would like that…Jean."

He grinned again, pressing another kiss to the hand he still held in his own. "Then I will call on you tomorrow evening, Mademoiselle. Good day."

His powerful form disappeared with a nod and a grin, and Meg was left wondering what in heaven's name had just come over her.

xXx

Meg closed the front door of the Marseille House with a quiet click. Her evening with Jean had ended later than she had anticipated, their conversation at the restaurant lasting hours. She had entirely lost track of time as he had spoken of his plans for the Opera, his knowledge of music, art, literature, and the childhood experiences that had first peaked his interest in all things dramatic.

It had become quickly apparent that Jean Ranier was every bit as bold as he had appearedat their first meeting. He was obviously used to success, and unaccustomed to anyone saying no to him. But he imposed his will in such a charming way that one could hardly mind his persistence. _And, oh, the way he had looked at her!_ Meg was almost certain she was on his list of objects to be acquired, and it made her nervous. And excited. And…guilty.

She couldn't help thinking of Raoul, and wishing that he would look at her in such a way. Meg sighed, turning towards the stairs with the intention of sneaking to her room, but before she had the chance, the foyer filled with light and her mother stood scowling at the base of the stairwell.

"Marguerite Amelia Giry! Do you know the hour?"

Meg sighed and slumped against the door. "Yes, Maman. I did not mean to worry you. Monsieur Ranier and I were delayed at the restaurant."

"Delayed? And just what delayed you child? If Monsieur Ranier has acted in any way improper…"

"He has not, Maman. He was a perfect gentleman."

Antoinette shook her head and lowered her voice. "Meg, that man is far too bold to be a true gentleman. And you are far too trusting."

"I am not a child, Maman. Though you seem to constantly see me as one. Other women have suitors…why should I not have one as well?"

"One, perhaps, Meg. But certainly not two! That can bring only trouble, as you well know."

Meg felt her color rise. "Well then, you will be glad to know that I have none! Only one prospective employer who likely charms every pretty girl he sees, and one…_friend_…who it seems would rather be anywhere but near me now!"

The tears that Meg had been holding back since Raoul had left Paris fell freely now, and Antoinette embraced her daughter. "Oh, my child. I feared thatyou would fall in love with le vicomte."

Meg shook her head and sniffled. "I…am…not…in…l-love. We are…only…f-friends."

Antoinette laughed a little. "Of course you are. Hush now. We will talk some more in the morning."

Meg allowed herself to be led by her mother back to her room, and tucked into bed as if she were a little child again. She took comfort in it, wishing she could go back. Knowing she could not.

And as the darkness of sleep claimed Meg, her last thoughts were ones of regret. That she could never be Christine.

* * *

**A/N: **Alright,the first little plot bunnyhopped onto the scene. My humble thanks to those of you continuing to read...

Poor Meg... What's a ballet rat to do?


	8. Like Kids

**Like Kids**

Raoul's return to his family estate should have served to put his jumbled emotions into perspective. In fact, the visit only served to confuse matters more. His continuing melancholy was of great concern to his parents, who were both convinced that he still mourned for the love of Christine, and so they had both taken pains to shake him from his brooding.

His father had been coldly direct about it, reminding Raoul that Christine had not been of his class--a lowly opera singer. There were so many other more suitable women.

His mother had been more tactful. Her words..._a lovely girl indeed, but certainly not cut out to be a vicomtess..._much kinder to her son's feelings.

Indeed, the Comtess had given Raoul a very nice little speech about all the wonderful young ladies that he should be meeting. She knew a good many, perhaps she should have some grand party so she might introduce him to a few ladies he might get on with. To help him forget Christine. It had been months, after all.

And to this, Raoul had broken into laughter. His poor mother had thought for a moment that he'd gone mad, and Raoul hadn't a choice but to tell her that it was not Christine so much on his mind these days. "There is…someone…a young lady…whom I have spent a great deal of time with of late. It is she who I have been thinking of."

"Oh, Raoul! That is wonderful. Who is this lady? Do I know her family?"

And there was the crux of his problem. For Raoul knew that his parents would be even less inclined to think Meg suitable than Christine. He sighed in resignation. "I…do not think you know of her, Mother. Her name is Marguerite Giry."

"Giry? The name...Raoul! Was Giry not the name of the ballet mistress at the Opera?"

"Yes, Mother. Meg is her daughter, and was also a ballerina at the Opera."

He watched his mother's confused expression clear, and then harden into distinct disapproval. "Oh, Raoul. No!"

"Don't, Mother. I know exactly what you are thinking and have no wish to hear your reprimand. Meg Giry is a wonderful, caring woman and I will not allow you to speak badly of her. She has been a great comfort to me as of late."

The Comtess scoffed. "I am certain she has been. But really Raoul, you cannot possibly think it a good idea to form such an attachment under these circumstances."

"And what circumstances would those be? Her class? Her chosen profession? Or is it that she actually has some idea of what my life has been like of late, and cares what I have to say?"

"You think your father and I do not care? Raoul, we love you and we only wish to see you happy."

"She makes me happy!"

"Does she? Because you certainly have not seemed so since your return."

Raoul shook his head and paced across the room. "Do you think I cannot see the obstacles, mother? I see them more clearly than you can imagine. Meg has been nothing but kind to me. She has no…expectations. I'm not even certain she feels the same…attachment that I do. And even if she does, I know she has no designs for marriage at this time in her life. Her dreams are of the stage. I will not take that from her." He looked his mother in the eyes. "You need not concern yourself that I might enter into another rash engagement."

The Comtess eyed her son intently, then gasped a little at the realization that he might truly love this girl. This girl whose happiness he cherished above his own.

Despite what her son might think of her, Elise de Chagny was far less concerned with the restrictions of society than her husband. She was a romantic at heart, and had been lucky enough to actually marry the man she had fallen in love with. Of course, it had helped that she was lucky enough to have been born to a wealthy family. And that she had always believed it just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor one. Yet she held no contempt for those whose hearts led them down a more difficult path.

The ill feelings the Comtess possessed toward Christine Daae had little to do with her social standing, but were born from the girl's poor treatment of Raoul. During the short weeks the young soprano had stayed at the estate, Christine had been listless and distant. She clearly had not been happy here, or happy in Raoul's affection.

Elise had hoped her son might finally be ready to move on from the whole affair. She could not help but be concerned that he would choose a woman who had been so close to the events at the Opera. Or worry that this girl would damage him just as Christine had done. Still, he was a grown man with a romantic heart, and there was really nothing to be done for it.

She moved to him and placed a loving hand against his handsome cheek. "You are prone to rash actions as of late, Raoul. Perhaps…you should…return to Paris. You might be better able to think there."

Raoul stared into his mother's loving blue eyes, understanding that he had her permission, if not precisely her blessing. But his obstacles were still far from removed.

xXx

Jean Ranier prided himself on being a man of determination. There had never been one thing he had set his sights on that he had not been able to obtain...and he had set his sights on Marguerite Giry.

The moment he had laid eyes on her, he had been completely enchanted. Her beauty was equally matched by her spirit, a fact that had resonated with the first words they had spoken. That a young woman so lovely and talented was still unspoken for was an amazement to Jean. But it was much to his advantage. He could not imagine that she would continue to refuse to return to the Opera, and then he would have the enjoyment of her company both in business and pleasure.

Perhaps he might even be inclined to consider marriage.

Sometime in the distant future, of course.

* * *

**A/N**: Wow...my reviews multiplied. Guess I should have introduced the plot bunny sooner. Thank you all so much for your kind words and critiques. 

Don't worry, Raoul will soon be finding his way back to Paris. The poor guy is just all mixed up about what he's feeling.

And Meg will have her own issues -- imagine falling for_ your_ best friend's ex.

I'm enjoying writing these two, as there is so much room to reimagine them.

Once again, I remind you all, musical and movie based - so I decided to write in some parents for Raoul.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	9. Interlude Two

**Interlude:**

**A Letter to Mlle. Giry from Mme. Rousseau **

_Dear Meg,_

_Forgive me for not writing sooner. My only excuse is a terrible preoccupation with my husband. It is unforgivable._

_I was so happy to hear that Raoul is well and moving on with his life. It eases my guilt so much to know this. I am glad to hear your friendship has continued._

_My little family is faring very well, and, indeed, I am quite happily growing rounder by the day. Erik's child is, even now, rolling about within me to be certain I do not forget to mention her to her 'Aunt' Meg. I say 'her' because Erik seems certain it will be a girl, and I somehow feel he is right. It is so strange, this feeling, Meg. I cannot begin to explain it to you properly._

_I confess to some anxiety over whether I will be a proper mother. I realize more everyday just how much of a child I, myself, had been before. I shudder when I think of what my childishness nearly cost me. I cannot imagine my life without Erik now._

_I know he worries over my pregnancy, though he tries to hide his darker thoughts from me. We are both aware how cruel the hand of Fate can be, but I have faith that God will see us through whatever path He has chosen for us. Erik's faith is, understandably, weaker. But his hope is increasing daily._

_His temperament has much improved these last months and I feel certain that it is entirely due to his contentment with our life. He can still be difficult, of course, he would not be the Erik that I love if he was otherwise. But he is becoming the man he was meant to be, and living with him has made me a stronger person, I think. Certainly a happier one._

_I have Erik, our music, and our child. The only things missing from my life are you and Madame. But I feel certain we will see each other again one day soon._

_Until that time, I shall be awaiting your next reply._

_Your friend,_

_Christine_

xXx

**A Reply to Mme. Rousseau**

_Dear Christine,_

_I was so glad to hear from you. I miss you so, and I dearly need a friend to talk to these days. I would very much like to be there when your child is born. I know Maman is planning to come, and I hope to join her._

_So much is happening here, I do not know where I should begin. I am certain you will remember our friend, Raoul, mentioning that the Opera was being renovated by a Monsieur Jean Ranier. That gentleman has quite brazenly come to call on me and offer me a position. I cannot tell you my surprise at such boldness. Especially when he invited me to dine with him._

_As I am certain you can imagine, Maman was not pleased by either invitation. She is certain he is up to some mischief, and I confess I quite agree with her._

_He is a very handsome man, however. And very charming. I suspect I would not be the first woman to succumb to his many appeals. I have not, as of yet, given in to his persuasions. At least, not about the opera._

_A few dinners can hardly be considered succumbing, after all. Can they?_

_Oh, Christine, what am I to do? Jean seems determined to court me, and I am quite fond of his attentions. But I do not love him._

_And I do not think he loves me, though it seems certain that he wants me._

_And his wanting me has done wonders for my career. Monsieur LeCleur has given me a featured role in our next production, as he cannot abide the thought of losing any more performers to his business rival._

_Jean has been quite adeptly stealing the best performers from all over Paris. He has even mentioned his disappointment at finding the Opera House devoid of its infamous ghost. It seems he had been looking forward to the Phantom's presence._

_We would be having a grand laugh about this if you were here. Box Five is to remain empty, just in case._

_Perhaps Erik might like his old job back._

_I must leave off now, practice is due to begin._

_Always,_

_Meg

* * *

_


	10. They Smile

**They Smile**

When Raoul returned to Paris again, he was not alone. The Comte and Comtess de Chagny had decided that they had been greatly missing the Parisian theater and needed to return for awhile. Of course, it was the Comtess who had decided, and Raoul was well aware of her true intentions. His mother was eager to inspect the woman who had claimed her son's attention and determine just how much she needed to worry over his attachment.

Blessedly, the Comte remained unaware of the true purpose of his wife's sudden desire for the city. Raoul knew he would have enough difficulty keeping his mother from interfering, he certainly did not need his father's wretched and unyielding prejudices.

But despite the added complication of his parents, Raoul was happy to be returning. And eager to see Meg again. The past two weeks without her lively wit and warm smiles had been almost unbearable.

The morning after Raoul's return, there had had been an invitation from Monsieur LeCleur to attend the rehearsals of _La Périchole_ at le Soliel. The opera was to open in a few nights time, and Francois was most eager to discuss some urgent business with le vicomte. Raoul was eager to see Meg before he would be forced to introduce her to his parents, so he happily made his way to the theater.

His happy mood would soon be soured, however, by the news that Francois was to relate to him.

"Raoul, your return to Paris has come not a moment to soon. I must enlist your help to save my theater."

Raoul was taken aback. "Francois? What has happened? Are you in some sort of financial trouble?"

"Bah! I wish it was financial, that would be easy enough to fix. No, my problem is far more nefarious. That blasted weasel, Ranier, is trying to steal away all my best performers."

Raoul found himself laughing at this. "I am certain Monsieur Ranier would not think himself stealing."

LeCleur narrowed his eyes at Raoul. "You may change your opinion once I tell you who his sights have been set on in your absence."

All at once, Raoul's good humor fled. "I…cannot imagine who you mean."

Francois smiled sympathetically. "Can you not? He has already hired two of my chorus girls and a stagehand, and he is very near wooing Mademoiselle Giry into accepting the position he's offered. And when I say 'wooing,' Raoul, I am not merely throwing the word around. He has been lurking about her dressing room at rehearsals, bringing flowers and chocolates. And I am sorry to say, she seems to be quite taken with him."

Raoul's breath seemed to be lodged in his throat, his chest tight and aching. Each word from LeCleur's lips was a painful twist to Raoul's heart. He struggled to find his voice. "Are…are you quite certain that…Meg is…that she…is not merely…entertaining the possibility of returning to the Opera?"

Francois LeCleur sighed. "I suppose it is possible. But Antoinette certainly does not trust the scoundrel any more than I do. Especially where Meg is concerned. I was rather hoping your return might ease Antoinette's mind, as well as my own."

Raoul shook his head, his mind still in a fog. "I cannot see how Madame Giry would think my return of benefit. She did not approve of my...friendship… with Meg."

Francois laughed a little. "Young Vicomte, you will find that a mother's good opinion is often a matter of perspective. And I believe Antoinette's opinion of you has much improved in your absence."

That would be of little consolation to Raoul if Meg had…_oh, God_…if she had fallen in love with another.

_Jean Ranier._

Raoul had more than one meeting with the man who was so determined to secure the de Chagny family's patronage for his Opera. Ranier was bold and cunning…and Raoul had had no doubt that the man would restore the Opera to its former glory. God! Raoul had even been the one to mention the Girys to Ranier, thinking of their careers. It seemed the scoundrel had not been inclined to wait for a proper introduction!

Shaking off the dark thoughts, Raoul excused himself from LeCleur's company and went in search of Meg. He stopped in the auditorium, watching as Madame Giry instructed the ballerinas, but he did not immediately see Meg. His eyes searched the stage looking forthe familiar blond hair, and then he saw her. She was standing to the side, talking to the mezzo soprano. Raoul could see her smile from here. And then Antoinette Giry tapped her cane.

"Meg. Stop chattering and take your place."

Raoul could not help but smile a little as he watched her roll her eyes and excuse herself from her friend.

The music began, a lovely lilting piece, and Raoul watched mesmerized as Meg gracefully moved through her routine. With a start, he realized that she was dancing a very prominent role. But whatever had happened to Yvette Dubois?

When the last chord had faded, Meg held her position until her mother tapped the cane once again. "Very nice, child. We will all take a short break before we run through the ballet in Act Two. Be back in position at precisely two o'clock. Thank you."

Meg exchanged a few words with her mother, and then both women looked to where Raoul sat in the back of the theater. Madame Giry had obviously seen him and told Meg of his presence. Her face lit up in a happy smile, and she rushed forward. "Raoul! You've returned!"

Madame Giry shook her head in exasperation, but in truth, she was happy to see le Vicomte back in Paris. Perhaps he would divert Meg's attention away from the increasingly persistent Monsieur Ranier.

Raoul returned Meg's happy smile, pushing away his own disturbing thoughts regarding Ranier. He made his way towards the stage and met Meg halfway, clasping both her hands in his and bringing them to his lips. "Meg, I have missed you."

"And I you, but I did not expect you back for some time. You had said the end of the month."

"The business was concluded earlier than I expected. And it seems just in time to see you dance the lead. You were…wonderful, Meg."

She blushed quite prettily. "Thank you, Raoul. Of course, I only have the lead because Yvette is…well…she is…indisposed at present."

"Indisposed?"

Meg leaned close and lowered her voice to a playful whisper. "It seems she was caught in a compromising position with the lead tenor and is taking a…much needed holiday. To avoid his jealous wife, I am certain."

Raoul laughed. "Well, I am certainly sorry for her…but happy for you, Meg."

"And I am so happy to have you back, Raoul. So much has happened in your absence."

Raoul flushed. Meg sounded so genuine in her happiness, but if what Francois had said was true, then it was only a friend's happiness. He could not bear this again.

_Not again, please, Meg._

Meg frowned a little, seeing Raoul's face darken. "Raoul? Is something wrong? You look…suddenly pensive."

He tried to shake himself from his mood. "It is nothing, Meg. I...would very much like to hear everything you've been up to these past weeks. Perhaps we could have dinner this evening?"

And then he saw it. Meg's eyes clouded with guilt and she looked away from him. "I…I am afraid I…cannot dine with you tonight."

In his pain, Raoul could not stop himself from baiting her. "A previous engagement with your mother?"

Meg glanced at him briefly, then away again, then finally met his eyes. "I…am dining with Monsieur Ranier this evening. I am certain you remember him."

Raoul dragged in a deep breath and lied. "I…was not aware you had made his acquaintance."

"He offered me a job at the Opera."

Raoul nodded, trying to keep his tone even. "Of course. How could he not? Have you accepted?"

"Not yet. I am still…considering."

Raoul chose his words carefully. "Is…your dinner with him…a matter of business?"

And here Meg dropped her gaze again, her cheeks growing red. "N-no. Jean and I are…friends. We have had dinner on several occasions."

Raoul schooled his features and concentrated on keeping his voice light. "Only friends, Meg?"

Her stormy eyes came back up to meet Raoul's clear blue ones. There was something indefinable in those dark sapphire depths. Almost as if she was searching for something. Then a sad little smile turned her lips. "It seems always to be my role."

All the hopes that Raoul had held for himself and Meg died on those words. The sadness in her eyes, her smile…he had seen that look before. Seen it on Christine's face when she'd been thinking of her angel. To see it on Meg's now was more than he could bear.

Raoul steeled himself against the pain, straightening his spine and forcing a smile he did not feel. He was determined that she would not see the pain she had unknowingly inflicted.

"Do not fret, little Meg. I am certain Monsieur Ranier means for you to play a far greater role in his life."

Meg seemed to wince a little. "Raoul…"

He couldn't bear to hear her say the words he knew were coming, so he cut her off. "We will catch up some other time. I'm afraid I have some business that needs my attention, and your rehearsal is about to resume. Until we meet again."

He bowed tersely and made a hasty retreat before Meg could stop him.

Tears sprang to her eyes unbidden. She had so hoped that she had been wrong, that Raoul had not been trying to distance himself from her. But it seemed she was exactly right. He cared nothing for her beyond friendship, had practically given her his blessing to continue seeing Jean.

What choice did she have but to accept that her silly dreams of a future with Raoul had been merely that? And it was far past time that she let them go.

xXx

Raoul slammed into his house without care. He ignored his butler who tried to tend to him and headed straight for the study, closing the door forcefully behind him. With shaking hands, he poured himself a brandy and brought it to his lips, feeling every drop as it burned down his throat. But it did nothing to ease the pain within him. He grimaced, and in a burst of anger, flung the glass against the far wall. He watched it shatter--watched the brown liquid splash and drizzle down the paint to pool on the mantle. And then he sank to his knees, head in hands, fighting back his tears. Anger and grief warred within him, both centered around one name.

_Meg._

He could not lose her! Would not allow this to happen again!

_Not again._

One month. He had been gone from Paris only one month. How could she come to care for this other man in such a short time?

_Because you left her, you damned fool!_

Raoul exhaled a painful breath, feeling as though his very soul was being ripped from him. "My sweet Meg. I cannot let you go."

And there, in the quiet of his torment, Raoul de Chagny finally came to understand the emotions that must have driven the Phantom into madness--the rage that woke the demon and launched him into action. For in that moment, Raoul fought against the dark temptation to steal Meg away from his rival by any means necessary.

And lost.

* * *

Thank you for the reviews...feedback is a wonderful thing. 


	11. All Nice and Warm

**All Nice and Warm**

"Marguerite, my dear, you seem very distracted this evening. Are you not enjoying my company?"

Meg looked up from the table to meet Jean's concerned green eyes. "Of course…I suppose I am a little preoccupied with thoughts of the ballet sequences in _La Périchole_." It was a lie, of course. She was preoccupied with thoughts of Raoul. "Forgive me."

Jean smiled indulgently. "I could be persuaded to forgive you…if you would agree to perform at my opera house."

Meg shook her head in frustrated amusement. _Would he never relent? _"Jean…I have told you …I am very happy at le Soliel. It would not feel right to abandon Monsieur LeCleur after all his kindness."

"Your loyalty truly is a commendable thing, my dear, but you must know I could do far more for your career."

Meg smiled thinly. "Yes, Jean. I'm simply…not ready to leave le Soliel yet."

_And not ready to offer my future up to you._

"Very well. I shall continue to try to persuade you otherwise, of course."

"I would expect nothing less from you."

Jean smiled wolfishly. "Ah…but you should expect everything, Marguerite. And I am greatly looking forward to seeing that you have it."

Meg caught her breath. "Jean…I wish you wouldn't say such things."

His smile grew wider. "And I wish you would not be so adorably resistant to my charms."

She couldn't help smile. "Ah, but were I to give in, you would surely tire of me quickly. And what fun would there be in that?"

Jean laughed in earnest. "What fun indeed?" He leaned across the table, eyes growing darker. "You are a remarkable woman, Marguerite. I hope you will allow me escort you to the gala after _La Périchole_."

Meg had known he would ask. Part of her wanted to refuse, knowing that Raoul would likely be in attendance. But she had promised herself that she would let go of that childish fantasy. Raoul was far out of her reach for so many reasons, but Jean Ranier was not. She took a fortifying breath, and moved forward. "I would like nothing more."

Perhaps if she said it enough times, she might actually come to believe it.

xXx

Antoinette Giry sat in the parlor of the Marseille House attempting to read. Her mind, however, was entirely preoccupied with her daughter, who was at present dining again with Monsieur Ranier. Antoinette did not trust that man in the least. Certainly Meg was an intelligent girl and Antoinette had raised her well, but Jean Ranier was the type of man who could make even an intelligent woman forget to think.

What concerned Antoinette even more was the fear that Meg was turning to Ranier in order to forget le vicomte. She was well aware of her daughter's feelings for Raoul, and had watched Meg valiantly try to hide her sadness these past weeks in his absence. Jean Ranier had been there to capitalize on Meg's loneliness, showering her with all the pretty words and gifts that she had not received from le Vicomte.

That very afternoon, Antoinette had watched Meg's face light with happiness when she had seen Raoul again, and for a brief moment it seemed that he had been equally moved by the reunion. But something had passed between them in the following moments that had caused Meg's spirits to fall.

Her daughter had returned to the stage fighting tears, and Antoinette had immediately rushed to her in concern. But Meg had claimed only that she was feeling suddenly unwell, and the return of the other ballerinas had forced Antoinette to let the matter drop. She had reluctantly proceeded with the rehearsal and Meg had made herself very scarce after that.

Antoinette was not certain exactly what had occurred between Meg and Raoul, but she feared that now Meg would be even more vulnerable to Ranier's advances. She sighed in frustration, giving up on the book. She had honestly believed that le vicomte was developing a deep attachment to Meg, and the idea had worried her due to his previous engagement to Christine. Antoinette knew the past would always be between the two, even more with Meg knowing of Christine's marriage and whereabouts whilst Raoul remained in the dark.

Still, she much preferred her daughter's attachment to le vicomte than to Ranier. At least Raoul was a gentleman. Or so Antoinette had believed, but she did not know what to think of the day's events. She only knew that she would be having a long discussion Meg when she returned home.

xXx

Meg arose in the morning feeling wretched. She had spent a sleepless night tossing and turning, her mind spinning with thoughts of Raoul and Jean. Her mother had been awaiting her return the previous evening, and much of what they had spoken of had weighed heavily on her. 

Meg had finally confessed to her mother the hope she had allowed herself in thinking that Raoul might feel something more for her. And the painful realization that he likely did not. Antoinette had tried to console her in this, but they both knew that even if Raoul had such feelings, acting on them would have been rather inappropriate under the circumstances. Christine would remain an ever present barrier between them, forcing Meg to forever betray one friend's trust to protect the other.

Shaking off her weariness, Meg forced herself to dress and descend the stairs, and upon doing so she discovering that the latest letter from Christine had arrived. Hoping for some distraction from her own piteous circumstances, she hastened through breakfast and retired to her room, opening the parchment carefully. Relaxing into a chair, she began to read.

_xx_

_Meg,_

_What have I been missing? I cannot believe all that you have written. I am not certain what to make of it. I confess that Madame's letters have not been complimentary of this Monsieur Ranier. Should I be worried?_

_I can only tell you to follow your heart. It will not mislead you._

_Please, Meg, assure me that all is well. _

_I cannot help but be happy at the news of your advancement in the theater. You are more deserving of such recognition than anyone. I know you will be a great success, whether at le Soliel or the Opera. _

_Erik was quite amused by your last letter. He very much fancies the idea of returning to Paris to haunt the Opera again. He has been composing in the evenings, and it has been wonderful to sit and listen to him play. Music is his joy, his passion. After me, of course._

_And truly it is a passion we share. I find I miss the stage far more than I had anticipated. Erik is forever assuring me that I shall perform again after the baby comes._

_Meg, you would hardly recognize me now, I have gotten so big. And I still have nearly two more months to go. I am glad I do not need to make my living in the ballet, as I doubt I will ever be able to return my body its former lithe shape. I take heart that Prima Donnas can be as big as a house as long as their voices carry the same weight. _

_I cannot wait for this child to arrive. Everyday I grow more excited to finally meet this miracle that Erik and I have created._

_Madame has written to say she will come soon. I so hope you will as well, as I know you would not wish to miss me in this condition._

_I await your reply._

_Your friend,_

_Christine_

_xx_

Meg smiled sadly as she finished Christine's letter and wiped impatiently at the emotional tears in her eyes. _Follow your heart. It will not mislead you._

She did not have that luxury.

Perhaps she should just pack up her belongings and head off to Dover to see her friend. Her own life was so confused now, and she wanted nothing more than to forget it all and focus on something happier.

But she could not leave. Not now with a new opera about to begin performances. Perhaps after that. _Yes._ She would ask for time away. Maman was planning to visit Christine soon. They could go together.

Meg would write back and tell Christine her plans. Time and distance should put things back into perspective.

* * *

Thank you loyal readers...stay tuned... 


	12. Try My Very Best

**Try My Very Best**

The opening night of_ La Périchole_ was a rousing success, and the after party held by Monsieur LeCleur was well underway. Raoul stood off to himself, his eyes scanning the crowd for a glimpse of Meg. She had been spectacular, so much so that the Comtess had nothing but glowing comments, though she was well aware by now that her son found himself with some competition for the young dancer's attention. 

Raoul, however, had made it quite clear to her that he was not planning to quietly step aside. Not this time. His parents opinion mattered little to him at this point. All thoughts of right and wrong had faded away. Only Meg was of any importance to him now, and he would fight for her.

Suddenly, Raoul saw her, a vision in green. She was on the arm of Jean Ranier, and Raoul felt his blood begin to boil. He made his way swiftly through the crowd towards the couple, plastering a fake smile on his face.

As if sensing his approach, Meg looked in his direction and visibly tensed. Her lips parted and her eyes remained locked on his. Feeling her withdrawal, Ranier turned to what had taken Meg's attention from him just as Raoul reached them. He smiled amiably. "Monsieur le Vicomte, so good to see you again."

"Monsieur Ranier." Raoul acknowledged the man but never took his eyes from Meg as he spoke. He reached for her hand. "Meg." Lifting it to his lips, he pressed a lingering kiss there. "You were exquisite tonight."

Meg felt herself begin to tremble a little, as Raoul did not release her hand, but continued to hold it firmly in his own. "Thank you, Raoul."

Jean could not help but take note of the familiarity between the two. Ever conscious of his own interests, he decided to let the little scene play out before he decided what strategy to adopt. "Yes. Marguerite is quite a vision on the stage. She will be even more so at my Opera."

Raoul reluctantly released Meg's hand, taking great hope from the fact that it seemed to take her a few seconds to realize that he had. He did not, however, release her eyes for even one moment. "Have you decided to return, then?"

Meg found that she could not quite think clearly lost in the strange intensity of Raoul's blue eyes. _Return? _"No," she murmured absently, shaking her head a little to clear it. _The opera of course, you twat. _"No…I have not." She finally tore her eyes away from Raoul to look accusingly at Jean. "Monsieur Ranier only persists in trying to influence my decision."

Raoul finally met the eyes of Jean Ranier, and a wealth of understanding passed in the glare between them. The game had been set. "I see. And do you still wish to influence the de Chagny family in the matter of patronage, Monsieur?"

Ranier's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but the glimmer of interest couldn't be disguised. "If le Vicomte will indulge me."

"Le Vicomte will not, Monsieur…but my parents find the renovation intriguing." Raoul's eyes drifted back to Meg as he spoke his next words. "I hope you will allow me to introduce you."

Jean considered this, and frankly could not resist such an opportunity. "We would be honored to make the acquaintance of le Comte and Comtess, would we not, my dear?"

Raoul flinched at the endearment, while Meg looked suddenly as if she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. Still, her eyes fastened on Raoul's once again. "Yes." Then she smiled, her voice more certain. "Yes, I would very much like to meet them, Raoul."

Raoul smiled warmly at her. _That's my sweet Meg_, he thought. He glanced back to where he had last seen his parents, and found them still chatting with Monsieur LeCleur. "Then meet them you shall." He bowed a little and waved them in the proper direction, falling into step closely beside Meg.

When they reached the little group, Francois LeCleur scowled at the sight of his business rival and excused himself. Raoul laughed a little at the man's dramatics, he was nearly as temperamental as his actors. The Comtess smiled at her son. "Ah Raoul, there you are."

Raoul stepped forward and addressed his parents. "Mother, Father, Allow me to introduce the gentleman who is restoring the Opera Populaire, Monsieur Jean Ranier, and…" His eyes and tone softened considerably, "Mademoiselle Marguerite Giry. The Comte and Comtess de Chagny."

Jean bowed. "It is an honor to meet you both."

Comte Philippe de Chagny acknowledged Ranier's bow with a nod of his head, but his eyes were focused on Meg with pure male appreciation. He extended his hand to her and she placed her own in his reflexively. "Mademoiselle Giry, it is truly a pleasure. You are more exquisite is person that you were upon the stage tonight."

Meg blushed at his compliment. Raoul shifted uncomfortably beside her, knowing that his father's response to Meg would be far different if he realized his son's attachment. Comtess Elise de Chagny, on the other hand, smiled warmly. "Yes, my dear. Raoul certainly did not do you justice."

The shock of this statement was clearly evident on Meg's face. She had not expected Raoul would mention her at all to his parents. "I…thank you, Madame...Monsieur le Comte."

Philippe smiled at the girl. "Raoul mentioned to us tonight that you came to le Soliel after the tragedy at the Opera. Do you have plans to return once Monsieur Ranier here has reopened?"

Meg wondered why everyone seem so intent as of late on her career plans. Especially when her career was currently the farthest thing from her mind. Before she could answer for herself, both Raoul and Jean attempted to do so for her.

"That is my greatest hope…"

"Meg is undecided at present…"

The two men broke off abruptly and glared at one another, and once again Meg was hoping for some means of escape - perhaps a chandelier to fall.

_Where was Erik when you really needed him?_

_Happily living in England with Christine…both of them leaving me here to clean up after them. All of this is entirely their fault,_ she thought ruefully

Comte de Chagny, suddenly becoming entirely too aware of the situation for his liking, cleared his throat. "I see." And he did. He would certainly be having a talk with his son later. "And how is the renovation progressing, Monsieur?"

Ranier composed himself, and smiled. "Very well indeed, le Comte. In fact, I would very much like discuss my plans for the Opera with you in detail sometime in the future, if you would be so kind."

The Comtess spoke then. "There is no time like the present, Monsieur Ranier. My husband and I would both like to hear more. I'm certain Raoul will be happy entertain Mademoiselle Giry while we discuss business."

Comte Philippe looked at his wife in mild irritation, Raoul grinned, Meg blushed, and Jean Ranier frowned at the realization that he had just been outmaneuvered. With a heated glare at Raoul, he turned his attention briefly to Meg. "If you would not mind, my dear? It will not be long."

Meg could barely catch her breath enough to reply. "I do not mind at all." And she hoped she did not sound too eager.

Jean shook his head a little. "Le Vicomte, I trust you will take good care of her."

Raoul smiled triumphantly. "Always."

He held his arm out to Meg. "Shall we walk a little, Meg?"

Meg smiled back in a daze and took his arm, leaving Ranier to promote his Opera House to the Comte and Comtess. Raoul led Meg though the crowd and out onto the terrace of the le Soliel's upper level. Only a few other couples were scattered about, making it easy to secure a relatively quiet view along the banister.

Meg was trembling inside, all her good intentions to ignore her feelings for Raoul gone with just one look from him. His quiet scrutiny was driving her absolutely mad. Unable to abide the silence, Meg broke in with a question. "Do you think that your parents will decide to reinvest in the Opera?"

Raoul's eyes darkened, and Meg sensed she had somehow said the wrong thing. "I am certain Monsieur Ranier will persuade them. I am told he has quite a talent for such things." Meg looked away, her cheeks coloring a deeper crimson, but she neither confirmed nor denied his statement. "Tell me, does Ranier make you happy, Meg?"

Her eyes jerked back to his. "I…enjoy his company."

Jealousy lanced through him, but it would do no good to let Meg see. Raoul was almost certain by her reaction to him tonight that she must feel something more, but he had been wrong about that once before…with Christine. He would not make the same mistakes again. Gently, he probed. "But you enjoy my company as well, do you not?"

She hesitated a moment and sadness flicked in her eyes. "Yes. Very much."

_Yes. Very much. Do not ruin this chance, Raoul. Meg does not need to be rescued. She needs to be wooed. And you have been too long away from her._

"I have been missing our lunches, Meg. Tell me when I might have your company for another?"

The tip of Meg's little pink tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and Raoul suppressed a groan. "Monday. I…am free on Monday."

He smiled. "Then Monday it shall be."

Meg felt suddenly faint, wondering why she was tormenting herself this way. Oh, how she wanted to believe that Raoul's interest was something deeper. That he had seen her with Jean and realized that he had fallen in love with her. For a moment…she thought perhaps… but, of course, she was conjuring up fantasies again. "Perhaps…we should go back in. Jean will talk about the Opera endlessly if permitted."

Raoul frowned. _Jean again_. He offered Meg his arm. "Then let us rescue my parents, _Marguerite._"

Meg grimaced. "Please, Raoul. I much prefer to hear you call me Meg."

Raoul smiled a little, thinking it a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. Monday...Monday he would begin to show his sweet Meg that her _friend_ Raoul intended much more than friendship for them.

xXx

Raoul had reluctantly escorted Meg back to the waiting arms of Jean Ranier, who had indeed intrigued the Comte and Comtess with his grand plans for the Opera's reopening. The little group quickly bid their adieus and split off, Jean leading Meg to safety away from the watchful eyes of the young Vicomte. He wondered just what had passed between the two as he'd discussed his business. "Marguerite? You look very far away just now."

"I am sorry, Jean. I'm suddenly very tired. The excitement of the night has caught up to me, I'm afraid."

He studied her closely, seeing that she was indeed tired, but knowing there was more to her shift in mood. "Perhaps your…walk…with le Vicomte was too much for you?"

He felt her tense beside him. "What are you implying, Jean?"

He sighed. "Nothing, my dear. It is late. Allow me to escort you home?"

Meg nodded. "Yes, thank you, Jean."

"You are most welcome."

_And the young de Chagny was most definitely not welcome_, he thought. _Not welcome at all._

* * *

**A/N**: Thank you again for the kind reveiws. Meg and Raoul have both been a bit clueless...but have faith... 


	13. Never Could Say Anything

**Never Could Say Anything**

The carriage ride to the de Chagny residence passed in an uncomfortable silence. Upon arriving home, the Comtess retired for the evening, excusing herself from the study where her husband and son remained.

Philippe de Chagny sat across from his son a deep frown upon his weathered face. "Raoul, what exactly is the nature of your relationship with Mademoiselle Giry?

Raoul had known the question would come. He eyed his father warily. "It has been one of friendship, Father. But I fully intend for it to become more."

Philippe's grip on his cane tightened and he tapped it angrily against the floor. "You cannot be serious! After the humiliation you have already brought upon this family, I will not permit another dalliance with a woman of such questionable origins."

The insult inflamed Raoul's temper, and he leaned forward in his seat. His voice was low and firm. "You will not speak of Meg with such disrespect again, or so help me, I will not be held responsible for my actions."

Philippe was far from intimidated by his son's idle threats. "And what change would that make from your current behavior? You have been nothing but irresponsible up to this moment…getting embroiled in that unseemly business at the Opera Populaire. And where did get you, Raoul? Humiliated by a common opera singer! Are you so eager to repeat your mistakes?"

Raoul growled at his father. "Meg is nothing like Christine!"

Philippe grunted. "Certainly she is a lovely creature, far more spirited than Mademoiselle Daae. But is having her in your bed really worth the trouble."

Raoul was out of his seat in a heartbeat, towering over his father with hands braced on the arms of his father's chair. "I will not hear one more word from you about the woman I mean to marry!"

Raoul angrily pushed away from his father and stalked over to the mantle, dropping his head to his hands. Philippe stood slowly, his voice trembling in anger. "You will not marry her, Raoul! I humored you once before, and look how it turned out. I will not be so generous again. I will cut you off! Disinherit you!"

Raoul turned and glared. "Then so be it! The de Chagny line can end with me for all I care! I will not lose the woman I love over such trivial things."

Philippe blanched. "Are you daft! You would forsake your family for _that woman_?"

Raoul stepped closer to his father. "_That woman_ saved me, father. She has shown me kindness and understanding. She listens to me. Hears me! She…has healed me and made me whole. And I will do whatever it takes to keep her in my life…with or without your approval."

Philippe's eyes softened marginally, but he was a stubborn man and would not give in so easily. "Without."

Raoul shook his head sadly. "Very well, then. I will leave this house in the morning, if that is what you wish. Goodnight father."

He left his father standing in silent contemplation.

When Elise de Chagny was made aware of the confrontation between father and son, she immediately exercised her considerable power as both wife and mother to bring about a temporary truce. She forbade Raoul from forsaking the family, and Philippe from disinheriting him.

_Time,_ she had said. _Let it play out as it must._

After all, it was clear to both the Comte and Comtess that Raoul's young lady had acquired another suitor who might render moot all Philippe's concerns.

xXx

After a strained breakfast with his mother's chattering about patience and understanding and family loyalty, and his father's silent brooding, Raoul took a carriage straight to the nearly completed Opera Populaire. He had business with Jean Ranier.

Raoul was shown into the manager's office, where Ranier was seated behind a desk. The man did not bother to stand at the vicomte's entrance; only sat back in his chair and smiled. "Ah, Monsieur le Vicomte. I had a feeling you might stop by the Opera today."

"Did you, sir?"

"Mmm. May I give you a tour; show you how successful the renovations have been?"

"Perhaps some other time."

"Of course, consider it an open invitation. Please have a seat, monsieur. I do not fancy your glowering over me." Raoul reluctantly scraped a chair back and sat. "That's better. Now, let us discuss the true reason for your presence here."

Raoul did not feel the need mince words. "Very well. I wish to know your intentions toward Mademoiselle Giry."

Ranier's smile turned rakish. "I would think that would be obvious."

Raoul colored in anger, rising from his chair and leaning over the desk. "You will not touch her, Ranier!"

Jean laughed. "I see you have abandoned all pretense of politeness, le Vicomte. How unbecoming."

"Rogues such as you do not deserve civility."

"Rogue? Hmm, yes. I suppose I am. But I assure you that Marguerite has no complaints."

Raoul nearly jumped over the desk. He had a sudden desire to strangle this man.

_Oh_ _God, oh God! I am going as mad as the phantom!_

His hands fisted so tightly that his short nails dug into the palms to keep from wrapping them around Ranier's neck. "I will not allow you to hurt her, Ranier!"

Jean stood then, all good humor fading from his posture. "I would never hurt her. She is quite precious to me, le Vicomte, and I intend to make certain that she is happy."

"As do I!"

"Then it appears we both want the same thing, does it not?"

Oh, the wealth of hidden meaning in that. They did both want the very same thing. _Meg. _"I have heard of your reputation, Ranier. Meg will never be your mistress."

"But will she be yours?"

Raoul growled. "I would not want her as such!"

"Ah, yes. You do have quite an overly romantic attraction to chorus girls, don't you? First a singer, now a dancer. Tell me, do you really think Marguerite would be any more eager to be a vicomtess than the other?"

Raoul paled, the question far too close to his own treacherous thoughts of late. "Christine has nothing to do with this, Ranier! Do not change the subject."

"Do you really think you can offer Marguerite more than I? That money and a title would make her happier than dancing? I can offer her a freedom that you can never give her, le Vicomte."

"But will you offer her respectability? Or will you ruin her with your own selfish desires?"

Ranier laughed in disbelief. "_My_ selfish desires? God, man, you are a shortsighted fop, aren't you? To take her away from the stage is the truly selfish act. A vicomtess could never dance again, but as _my wife_, she would be forever near that which she loves so dearly."

Raoul felt suddenly ill. _Wife? _"Then you intend to ask for her hand?"

"My intentions are none of your concern, le Vicomte. I do as I please and answer to no one."

Raoul glared at the man. "You will answer to me where Meg is concerned, Ranier, I assure you!"

With that, Raoul stormed from the office, attempting to block the sound of Ranier's menacing laughter from his ears.

_The damned Opera didn't need a Phantom anymore._

_It had Ranier._

* * *

**A/N: **Wow...an assertive, determined Raoul...watch out Meg. 


	14. In Twenty Words or Less

**In Twenty Words or Less**

Raoul sent his coach ahead and walked to the Marseille House, hoping the air and the exercise would calm his temper. For some unfathomable reason, Meg actually seemed to _like_ Jean Ranier. Raoul could only hope it was not more than that.

He had watched the couple closely at the gala, and while Meg had certainly seemed comfortable enough with Ranier's attention, she had not really looked to be in love with the rake. Fond of, certainly, but that particular soft light of love had not been in her eyes when she had looked at Ranier. And Raoul should know the look, as he'd seen it in Christine's eyes when she had looked at her _angel_ on that dreadful night beneath the Opera.

_Damn._

Why did he still feel the need to make that comparison? Meg was not Christine, and he did not want her to be. He loved her just as she was.

_Which is exactly why what Ranier said is eating you alive, you fop!_

For as much as Raoul had loved…or thought he'd loved…Christine, he had never really minded the notion of taking her away from the stage. He'd certainly loved her voice, but there had been no question in his mind that she would give up singing once she had married him. He'd intended to change her…protect her…guide her…make her a proper Vicomtess. The thought of doing that to Meg made him ache inside.

_You'll suffocate her, just as you did Christine._

That was the very reason he had attempted to put some distance between them to begin with…to keep himself from the temptation to pressure Meg as he had Christine. Now his hesitation had opened the door for that…_scoundrel._

Perhaps it _would_ be best if his father were to disown him, then there would be no need for Meg to give up her dancing. At least, not yet. Not until…well, certainly…she would have to if there were ever…children.

_Children._

Raoul dragged a hand through his hair. The thought of children with Meg was so sweet. She would make such a wonderful mother.

_God, I am off on a tangent again. First I must win her heart, then we shall deal with everything else._

When Raoul arrived at the boarding house, Madame Marseille led him to the parlor where he was surprised to find Madame Giry sitting in the window bench.

He bowed slightly. "Good afternoon, Madame."

Antoinette stood. "Le Vicomte. We have not had the chance to speak since you've returned. It is good to see you back in Paris."

Raoul smiled. "It is good to be back. I did not see you the other evening after the performance, and I wanted to compliment you on the wonderful job you have done with the ballet."

Antoinette nodded in acknowledgment. "I did not attend the gala. I prefer to leave the celebration to those much younger than myself."

He laughed. "But Madame, you are the very picture of youth."

Antoinette raised an eyebrow. "Please, Monsieur, you do not need flattery to wheedle into my good graces. You need only promise you will not up and leave Paris again while a certain _gentleman_ still has designs on my daughter."

Raoul's smile fell away. _It certainly seems to be a day of blatant honesty,_ he thought. "I can assure you that I will not, Madame."

She eyed him closely, and then, unbelievably, she smiled. "Good." She moved past Raoul towards the door, stopping just beside him. "Enjoy your lunch, young Vicomte."

Raoul watched her go in disbelief. Francois had been right; Madame Giry's opinion of him had improved in his absence. And he had just been given her blessing. The day was certainly improving.

Raoul paced the parlor for another five minutes before Meg came downstairs. He nearly forgot to breath at the sight of her. Her blond hair hung loose and fell in silken waves over her shoulders. The deep blue of her dress made her sapphire eyes seem even brighter than usual.

_And her smile. Lord, her smile._

"I am sorry to have kept you waiting, Raoul."

He took her hand in his. _I would wait a lifetime for you, sweet Meg,_ he thought. "It was no hardship, Meg. Especially when you are such a vision."

Meg blushed, which, much to her annoyance, she seemed to do quite often in his presence as of late. "Where shall we lunch today?"

Raoul grinned. "That is a surprise, my dear."

Meg raised an eyebrow, much in the same fashion of her mother. "As long as there is food, I suppose I am game for anything."

His grin deepened. "I shall have to remember that in future."

Meg was most definitely surprised when Raoul's coach arrived at a small outdoor café on the shore of the Seine called La Belle Etoile. And she was even more surprised to find that Raoul had somehow arranged for the outdoor terrace to be open only to them.

He held her chair as she sat at a table by the water, and he pulled the second chair closer to sit adjacent to her. "It has been so long since we have really spoken, Meg. I thought some privacy would not be unwelcome."

She couldn't stop the fullness that suddenly bloomed in her chest. Why did he torment her so with these little moments when there could never be more?

_Friends. You are friends. Remember Christine. And, oh God…Jean._

Meg took a deep breath. "It was very thoughtful, Raoul. Now we can talk openly without worrying who might overhear our wicked gossip."

She smiled cheekily, trying to make light of the moment, and didn't notice Raoul's soft smile drop a little at the corners. He sighed resignedly. "Of course." So much for his romantic gesture. "Tell me all the Parisian news I have missed these past weeks."

Meg studied him a moment, feeling once again that she had somehow said the wrong thing. Why was talking to Raoul suddenly so difficult? "I would much rather you tell me how your business went. I trust all is well, or you would not have returned ahead of schedule?"

Raoul sat back in his chair, mildly surprised that Meg would care to ask him about business. "Yes. Business is…" He smiled again. "Boring, Meg. My father and I spent days discussing family holdings and investments. I have no wish to put you to sleep with such mundane talk."

"But I do not find it mundane, Raoul. I would like to know exactly what a Vicomte does when he isn't supporting the theater."

He laughed. "Surprisingly little, really."

"Come now, Raoul. Tell me. Please?"

"My family has investments in France and England; a shipping company, an orchard in Chardonnay. And of course our ventures into the theater. Honestly, Meg, I am not even entirely certain of half the deals my father has made."

"Do you enjoy any of it? Other than the theater, of course."

"No. I cannot say that I do. But I have little choice in the matter, being the de Chagny heir."

"Well, it cannot be all bad. If nothing else, you can afford to buy half a café for the afternoon."

Raoul laughed again. "I will confess a certain enjoyment to being le Vicomte de Chagny."

Meg smiled. "Well, you are very good at it."

"Am I?"

Meg caught her breath at his sudden seriousness. "Y-yes. Very…noble and…heroic."

Raoul studied her. _Noble and heroic? Were those good things?_ He had believed them to be once. When he spoke, his voice was heavy with sarcasm. "And those qualities have worked so well for me in the past."

Meg's heart sank.

_He is thinking of Christine again, of course. Foolish, foolish girl._

"Raoul, you mustn't think like that. You are a good and honorable man, and I am proud…to be your friend."

_Friend_, he thought. _And just what does that make Ranier?_

Raoul was tempted to ask; to reveal the depth of his own feelings for her and demand to know hers. But he did not want this day to turn sour. There would be a better time and place to speak of such things. He smiled and placed a hand over hers. "Your friendship is precious to me, Meg. I cannot begin to express how much these moments mean to me."

Meg's heart began to flutter madly, and her breathing grew uneven. "I…am glad of that, Raoul. You mean a great deal to me, as well." Then she realized her slip and blushed furiously, dropping her eyes and dragging her hand away from his. "I mean…your friendship, of course."

Raoul's smiled broadened into a happy grin. "Of course."

_Too late to take it back, sweet Meg._

Taking pity on her flustered state, Raoul turned the conversation to more frivolous matters. The rest of their lunch passed in happy conversation that flowed from subject to subject with ease. It was hours later before Raoul escorted Meg back to the Marseille House. He walked with her into foyer, and she turned to thank him.

"I had a wonderful afternoon, Raoul."

"As did I. Tell me when I might see you again, Meg."

She frowned a little. "The theater will not be dark again until _La Périchole_ closes. Between rehearsals and performances and…" _Jean,_ but she could not bring herself to tell Raoul that. "I will be free Wednesday evening, after the performance."

"No, you will not be free. You will be dining with me."

She smiled softly. "Yes. I will be."

Unable to resist her one moment longer, Raoul bent forward a placed a lingering kiss against Meg's cheek. He heard her quick, tiny intake of breath, and it took all his control not to capture her lips and kiss her as he longed to.

_Not yet, sweet Meg. But soon._

Raoul straightened, finding his voice hoarse when he spoke. "Goodnight, Meg."

She watched him leave, the door closing quietly behind him, and she raised one trembling hand to her cheek where his lips had been.

Then her mouth curved into a smile and her heart took flight.

* * *

**A/N**: Hey...progress in the relationship. How about that? 


	15. Somewhere Sometime

**Somewhere Sometime**

For the next two days, Meg could think of little else but Raoul. She had not seen him since their lunch on Monday and she could not help feeling anxious. Had she read too much into that little kiss? It was only her cheek, after all. A perfectly friendly action. What if Raoul had not intended it to be more? And how was it that she had once possessed such wisdom to impart on Christine's complicated love life, but now, when she most needed the talent for herself, it had abandoned her?

These thoughts kept rolling about in her mind, even as she once again sat across the table from Jean on Tuesday evening for supper. She knew she should tell him the truth of her feelings for Raoul, but found it a difficult subject to broach when she was still so uncertain if her feelings were returned.

One thing was certain, she did not wish to lead Jean on any longer. Meg was here tonight only because this dinner had been arranged the night of the gala, before Raoul had asked to see her again. Jean's attention to her was flattering, and Meg could not deny that she had enjoyed every minute. But she knew his interest was fueled more by her refusal to fall at his feet than any deep emotional attachment. He was a man used to getting what he wanted, and being unable to seduce Meg into his Opera and his bed was a novelty to him.

That fact did not diminish her guilt at having played along with this game for so long. In truth, she had been hoping that she might have been able to feel something for him that would have eclipsed her feelings for Raoul. And, much to her shame, she had even briefly considered giving into his gentle seduction. But the thought of being his mistress held little appeal to her.

"Marguerite, tell me what is troubling you this evening?"

Meg looked into Jean's emerald gaze. "I suppose…I am wondering just where this is going, Jean."

His eyes darkened as he studied her. _So the young vicomte has been to see you, has he?_ "Wherever you wish it to go, my dear."

"Jean, please. Can you not just answer me honestly; without the charming lines?"

"I want you, Marguerite. In my Opera. In my…life. I had thought I made that very clear."

"No, indeed, Jean you always manage to veil your true meaning with carefully chosen words. So for once we will both say what we mean. I will not be your mistress, Jean."

"I should have known your Vicomte would make you believe the worst of me."

Meg's eyes flashed. "Raoul has nothing to do with this."

"No? Has he not told you of my dishonorable intentions towards you? That I am a ruthless lothario not to be trusted?"

"He has said no such thing! We hardly spoke of you at all. And I certainly would not need Raoul to inform me of your reputation, Jean. I have heard enough of it from other sources!"

Jean slumped back against his chair, regarding her momentarily. "And if I were to tell you my intentions toward you are more…honorable. Would it make a difference? Or have I no hope at all of winning your heart?"

Meg shook her head sadly. "I really do not think it is my heart you desire, Jean."

He looked away. "Perhaps it was not always my main interest." He turned his gaze back to her. "But I think you are a woman I could be very content with, Meg."

She gasped a little. Jean had never called her 'Meg' before, and the name sounded strange passing his lips now. Even more strange was that she somehow believed he meant what he said. "Jean…"

"No. Listen a moment. You want the truth, and I shall give it to you. I desire you. I am intrigued by you. I think I could come to love you very dearly, given time. And you know I can make your dreams of being a prima ballerina come true. I can offer you my Opera, Marguerite. He can only offer you regret…a life of settling for less than you deserve."

Meg gasped. "I-I…d-don't know what you mean."

"Yes, my dear, I believe you do. Can you really give up the dancing that you love so dearly to be a replacement for your friend, Mademoiselle Daae?"

Meg stared at him in shock, pain and anger shimmering in her teary eyes. "How dare you?" Her voice was only a whisper, trembling with sorrow. "You have no right to say such a thing to me."

"I say it because I do not wish to see you swept up in some childish fantasy when I am offering you something real. Vicomtes do not marry chorus girls, Marguerite, they take them as mistresses."

Meg gritted her teeth, searching for something to defend against his accusations. "Raoul is not like that. He would have married Christine."

Jean sneered. "But you are not Christine, my dear."

Meg couldn't breath, her vision began to grow hazy around the edges. She was only vaguely aware of standing, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. She blindly reached for her glass of wine and threw it in Jean's scowling face.

One step, two, three… She was running before she reached the doors of the restaurant, mindless of the stares and talk going on around her. She made it only a little ways down the street before she could no longer see where she was going through her tears.

Only then did she stop, turning into the doorway of a small shop as she let her sobs overtake her. Jean's words tormenting her.

_You are not Christine._

It was a long time later before Meg finally flagged a hansom cab and returned home.

xXx

The Wednesday evening performance if _La Périchole_ was not one of Meg's better ones. She made no obvious mistakes, but she did not feel connected to the opera that night. She was simply going thought the motions. Jean Ranier's cruel words had haunted her all day, even more so because they echoed her own dark thoughts. 

As much as Raoul might think himself over Christine, she would always be there between them. Nothing would change the fact that Raoul and Christine would well be married now if Christine had chosen differently.

_And he would not even know you are alive, little Meg_.

Being in Christine's shadow was nothing new to Meg. She had accepted it long ago, mostly because Christine was so dear to her. Though there was always a twinge of jealousy when Meg thought of everything Christine had been given in her young life. So much tragedy, yet she had always landed on her feet. Taken in and loved as a daughter by Meg's own mother, tutored and loved by her angel of music, and, of course, Raoul. Even after everything that had happened between Erik and Christine at the Opera House, she had still managed to find love and happiness. And now a family of her own.

What would Raoul say if he knew? Would his heart break for what could have been his? Or would he smile and wish Christine well? The question would always be there.

_If he sees her again, if he had another chance? _

Meg didn't think she could live like that.

_Damn it! Why did Jean have to remind her that she would always be second best with Raoul?  
_

_

* * *

_

The shadow of Christine is creeping back in on poor Meg...


	16. Down the Line

**Down the Line**

When Meg opened the door of her dressing room after the performance, she fully expected to find Raoul standing there. Instead she saw Jean Ranier, complete with a dozen long stemmed pink roses and a bottle of champagne. Her temper sparked and she attempted to slam the door in his face, but Jean quickly insinuated himself between the door and the frame.

"Please, Marguerite. I must speak with you."

Meg let go of the door, turning into her dressing room with Jean following behind her. "I believe you said quite enough last night, Monsieur."

"And for that, I am truly sorry. I should never have spoken to you in such a way. Forgive me, please?"

Meg crossed her arms over her chest in a defensive posture. "I don't know that I can, Jean. You hurt me deeply."

He nodded, setting aside the flowers and bottle he carried. "I should have chosen my words more carefully. But my concerns are genuine, Marguerite. You must know this, or you would not have reacted so strongly to what I said."

Meg sighed raggedly. "I really do not wish to discuss Raoul with you again."

Jean reached out and cupped his hands around her shoulders. "Then we will not. Can you accept my apology?"

Meg met his eyes, wondering if he was being sincere, or simply playing at some new game. She should not forgive him, she knew, but could she hold a grudge when every word he had said seemed voiced from her own questions? "I will forgive you, Jean. But I will not forget."

He smiled a little, tracing his right hand over her collarbone and up to her cheek. "I understand, my dear Marguerite. You are very special to me, you know. I hope I might still have a chance at your heart, should I decide I do indeed desire it along with the rest of you."

Meg huffed in irritation. "You truly are a wicked man, Jean."

"But you like me."

"Against my better judgment."

"Have dinner with me, my dear. Let me make up for my behavior of last night."

Meg opened her mouth to refuse, but she never got the chance, as Raoul's angry voice cut in on them. "I am afraid the lady is otherwise engaged, Ranier. Now kindly remove your hands before I cut them off."

Jean did not move, did not even turn at Raoul's voice. He merely watched the guilt and panic flash in Meg's lovely eyes as she looked over his shoulder at the vicomte. With a wicked grin, he stroked his hand back down her throat. "Perhaps tomorrow then?"

Meg drew quick breath and jerked away from him at the same moment Raoul lunged forward and physically dragged Ranier back from Meg, slamming the man against the wall.

Meg let out a cry of despair. "Raoul…no!"

For a brief moment, she was certain the two would come to blows, but Jean was not an easy figure to be manhandled and he pushed Raoul away, straightening from the wall and narrowing his eyes. "Touch me again, Vicomte, and I will forget I am a gentleman."

"You are no gentleman, Ranier."

Jean merely smiled that wolfish smile, turned and nodded to Meg. "Enjoy your evening, Marguerite. I will be in touch." He glared at Raoul as he passed.

Raoul stood staring at Meg, hurt and confused and angry beyond belief. He had come upon her dressing room happily looking forward to their evening, only to hear Ranier inside telling her how much he desired her. Hearing Meg admit she liked the man against her better judgment. And all Raoul had been able to think was _it's happening again_. He had been back at Christine's dressing room, hearing her talk to her _angel._

And now Meg was staring at him with the same guilt in her eyes. She had been with Ranier last night. She was still seeing him. Raoul could no longer play this game with her. His gentle seduction was at an end.

"Raoul, I…it isn't what you must think…"

His voice was hard and laced with pain when he spoke. The words felt ripped from his very soul. "Do you love him, Meg?"

Meg stared at Raoul, taken aback by his blunt question. "I have hardly known him long enough to love him."

Raoul's hard gaze softened fractionally, and a strange mix of desperation and hope entered his eyes. "But people have been known to fall in love with only a look…a word..."

"A song?" As he had with Christine. The wordsescaped without thought, born of Meg's own hurt and confusion and, yes, jealousy. Bitingly, she added, "Such a love can be fleeting."

Raoul looked away a moment, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. "Perhaps." His love for Meg had taken flight with a smile from her, and her every word, every moment in her company had made it soar. When Raoul met Meg's eyes again, it seemed he was trying to look straight into her very heart. He closed the distance between them as he spoke again. "Unless there is a deeper connection beyond that first flutter of emotion. A completion of the soul. A love impossible to deny. Tell me…do you feel that, Meg?"

_Yes,_ she wanted to say. _I feel it, but not for Jean_.

She could not speak….her eyes held captive by his…unable to look away from the heat…the longing. Dear God, she could almost imagine that she saw love there. She wasn't even aware of the tears escaping down her cheek until Raoul lifted his hand to wipe them away with his thumb. He moved closer, his mouth just inches from hers. She felt his breath flutter against her lips as he whispered. "My sweet Meg."

Then his mouth brushed over hers, gently at first. But that brief contact was enough to ignite the spark between them. Raoul pressed another kiss to Meg's lips, this one more urgent, and she responded. Her arms looped around his neck, one hand tangling into his long hair while Raoul pressed a hand against the small of her back and pulled her closer.

The world seemed to fade away as Meg lost herself in Raoul's kiss. Her entire being melted seamlessly into him and every nerve ending in her body came alive with sensation. The new feelings he was arousing in her were so exquisite that she never wanted them to end. In fact, she wanted even more.

_This must be why Christine had smiled so when she'd spoken of Erik._

The wayward thought had the same effect as a bucket of ice water over Meg. With a strangled little cry, she wrenched herself away from Raoul and pushed against his chest, causing him to stumble back a step. "No…Christine…"

Raoul stood staring at Meg through a haze of desire, aroused beyond belief and aching from the sudden loss of her. It took a moment for her words to register in his passion-fogged mind, but when they finally did, he cursed himself for having failed to reassure her of his feelings.

"Meg." He reached out with his right hand and cupped her chin, lifting her face until her sapphire eyes met his once again. "Christine is only a memory to me now. I have fallen in love with you."

Meg felt herself sway; the words so beautiful to her that she would hardly believe that she had heard them. It was what she had been wanting for so long…_yet_…

She could not make herself forget what Jean had said, and she closed her eyes to break Raoul's intense gaze. Her own doubts crept back in once again. Could she do this; knowing that all of Paris would see her as Christine's replacement? Always wondering if deep inside Raoul would be thinking of his Little Lotte.

She shook her head sadly, realizing how truly naïve her daydreams of love had been. "She will always be between us, Raoul. We will never be free of her."

Raoul dropped his hand, stunned that Meg would say such a thing…with words so familiar to him. He took her hands in his, desperate now to make her believe.

"Meg, look at me. Can you not see the truth of my feelings? My love is yours alone. If Christine is between us, it is you who have placed her there."

Meg met his eyes, wanting so badly to believe him. But they were only words, and words could easily lose their meaning.

_And then I will lose even his friendship._

"I…am sorry, Raoul. But I cannot help but feel her here with us. And if she _were_ here….I would be…nothing…to you."

Raoul felt his heart breaking again. "No! Meg, you are everything to me! How can I convince you?"

_How, indeed? _Even if Raoul were truly free of Christine, Meg was not. There were secrets that Meg could not share, and she felt caught between her loyalty to her friend and her loyalty to the man before her now.

Meg turned pleading eyes to him; her heart wanting to give in, her head telling her there was too much left unresolved. She gave Raoul the only answer she could at the moment. "I…time…please… give me…time."

Raoul drew a ragged breath. _Time?_

She was asking him for time, and Raoul suddenly recalled the words Meg herself had once spoken to him.

_Such a small thing to grant to the woman you claimed to love._

As impatient as he suddenly felt to press Meg for more, he could not refuse her when she was looking at him in such a way. His sweet Meg needed reassurance that his heart belonged only to her now, and he would spend the rest of his life providing it if she would allow him. He took her small hand with his own. "I will grant you anything, my love."

Her eyes turned liquid, and Raoul found himself unable to resist pressing another soft kiss to her lips. He wanted nothing more than to deepen the kiss and sink with Meg into the sofa, but he had only just promised her time, so he forced himself to pull away.

"Perhaps…" He cleared his throat in embarrassment. "Perhaps we should see to dinner now.'

Meg dragged in a deep breath. "Y-yes. I think we should."

* * *

**A/N: **I know...so close...but the whole issue of Christine really does need to be resolved before Meg and Raoul can ever completely move on. 


	17. Someday I May Confess

**Someday I May Confess**

Dinner was a blend of pleasant conversation, long content quiets and nervous smiles. While Raoul's grand confession of love had not gone quite as well as he had hoped, he counted it a success. Meg was with him, smiling and happy and gazing at him with such bright adoring eyes that he felt certain that she must love him.

And if it bothered him that she had not yet said the words, he only needed to remind himself that the words could be said without the feeling behind them. _As Christine had_. The thought of Christine only served to stress the precise reason that Meg was wary of this change to their relationship. Raoul could not fault her for it, as she knew better than anyone could exactly what he and Christine had shared and what they had not. He would truly be callous not to understand the very awkward position Meg found herself in now.

_Thank God Christine is no longer in Paris…or Meg would certainly never allow me this chance with her._

Even as he thought it, he realized the irony. Meg believed that Raoul would have still been hopelessly in love with Christine if she had remained in the city…and it is possible that she might be right. But then, he had never been entirely unaffected by Meg's presence, even when his heart had been set on Christine. And now her affect on him was impossible to deny.

_Does she know she could have me on my knees with one word…one smile? As long as she will have me…_

As Raoul walked Meg to the door of the Marseille House, he felt more hopeful for his future than he had in a long while. Her request to proceed slowly was a blessing in some ways. He would have time to bring his father around to some sort of acceptance, and Meg would have time to enjoy her career. And she would come to see that his love for her was unwavering.

Taking her hand, Raoul placed a kiss to her knuckles, then turned her hand over to kiss the inside of her wrist, smiling crookedly when he heard her tiny gasp. "Will you dine with me again tomorrow evening, Meg?"

_And every night for the rest of my life?_

"I...yes."

Raoul's smile turned teasing. "No previous engagements then?"

Meg dropped her gaze,embarrassed now at his teasing. "Raoul..."

"Would it be overstepping our.. ._friendship_…if I should ask you not to see Monsieur Ranier again?"

Meg had already decided she could not continue to see Jean when her heart belonged to Raoul, and she certainly had no desire to hear more of his disheartening opinion on the subject. "I will need to see Jean at least once more. To tell him my decision."

"Your decision?"

"Mmm. I do not think I will dance again at the Opera Populaire."

Raoul grinned. "Francois will be most happy to hear that."

"Well, it might ease some of his pain at having to grant me leave after _La Périchole_ closes."

Raoul's smile fell away. "Leave? Whatever for?"

Meg drew a breath, knowing this subject would not be an easy one. But after Raoul's confession tonight, it was even more important that Meg should see Christine again before carelessly giving in to her own emotions. "I meant to tell you, Raoul. Maman and I will be quitting Paris in three weeks and traveling to the coast to visit with some friends."

Raoul's good spirits plummeted at her news. "How long will you be gone?"

Meg turned her gaze away guiltily. "It.. .could be quite some time.. .two months at least, I think."

"Months?" An uneasy feeling of despair settled over Raoul. "Meg, must you really be gone so long?"

She drew a breath, considering how much of the truth to tell him. "I am afraid so, Raoul. Our friends, Monsieur and Madame Rousseau, left the city for.. .health reasons...and it has been too long since we have seen them. They live at some distance and a shorter visit simply would not be…practical."

He sighed heavily. "And I suppose we must be practical, mustn't we?"

Meg twined her fingers with his. "Yes."

Raoul hated the thought of Meg being away from him for so long, but he supposed it could not be avoided. "Then we shall have to make the most of these next three weeks, my love."

With that, he bent to capture her lips once again. Just as before, Meg responded, allowing him to deepen the kiss and Raoul was tempted to drag her even closer to him and allow his desire to run free. Reluctantly, he broke away from her, barely finding his breath to bid her goodnight. "Until tomorrow, sweet Meg."

"Tomorrow..." Meg responded on a breathless whisper as Raoul traced his thumb across her lower lip.

Without another word, he slipped though the door, leaving Meg yearning for something she could not fully define.

xXx

The following days passed by in perfect contentment, with Raoul and Meg reveling in their new found closeness. But Meg was ever conscious of keeping rumors and gossip to a minimum, so she insisted that she and Raoul maintain an appropriately chaste relationship when in public. Much to Raoul's frustration, they were often in public and rarely alone. When they _were_ alone (as alone as two people could be with a protective mother just upstairs from them) they spoke of their childhoods and their parents, or of politics and art. Or of any subject that caught their fancy. Each day proving their compatibility.

The only minor stumbling block to Meg's increasing confidence occurred on the afternoon she had gone to the Opera Populaire to speak with Jean again...

"Marguerite, my dear." He clasped her hand in his and bent to kiss her cheek. "I am so happy to see you."

She pulled away from him and steeled herself for his inevitable attempt to sway her from her task. "Perhaps you had best reserve judgment on that until after we have spoken, Jean."

He frowned. "Ah…I see. Le Vicomte, is it?"

Meg was beyond denying this now. "I...care for him, Jean. And to continue this game with you would not be fair to anyone."

He grinned at her wolfishly. "I have been quite enjoying our game, Marguerite."

Meg tried her best to spear him with a haughty look. "You will soon find another means of entertainment."

Jean's smile faded and his voice hardened. "He will never make you happy."

"Perhaps not, but then, Raoul is not responsible for my happiness, Jean. I am."

"Does dancing not make you happy, that you would give it up for a life of boring nobility?"

"The only thing I am giving up at this moment is the position you've offered me. Beyond that, I cannot say what the future will bring."

"So he has not proposed, then?"

Meg sighed in frustration. "Not that it is any of your business, but Raoul and I are hardly at a point for such momentous decisions."

Jean chuckled slightly. "Is that what he told you, my dear?"

"No, it is what I told him."

His brows went up at this. "Then you _do_ have some sense where he is concerned."

"I should have expected you would act this way! I am sorry I even came here." She turned to leave, but Jean's hand on her arm stopped her.

"Wait, Marguerite! Before you run back to him, at least let me offer you an alternative."

Meg shook her head, wondering what he thought he could say to change her decision. "We have been over this, Jean."

He smiled again, a wicked glint in his eyes. "No…" Jean placed a finger under Meg's chin and tipped her face up as he spoke, "Not exactly this."

She knew it was coming, and for her life Meg could not say why she did not stop him. She only stood passive as Jean pressed a hungry kiss to her lips. There was nothing tentative in the action, no gentle seeking or patient caress. Only a skillful demanding insistence that she accept. And for one insane instant, Meg did just that. But where Raoul's kiss had sparked a slow fire within her, Jean's sent a chill of apprehension racing down her spine, and she twisted away from him with a cry.

"Jean...no!"

His lips curled into a slow smile as he studied her flushed cheeks and wide bright eyes. She had not been as unaffected as she had wanted to be. He spoke softly and without airs.

"I have never needed to force a woman, Meg. Neither would I turn a willing one away. If you should ever grow tired of your little vicomte, you know where you might find me."

Meg shook her head in denial. "Goodbye, Jean."

As she left his office, she heard his deep voice laced with humor. "Au revoir, ma petite."

Needless to say, Meg did not tell Raoul the particulars of her visit with Jean.

* * *

**A/N: **I just wanted to take a moment to thank my reviewers again, especially DragonheartRAB and Erik'sTrueAngel for the constant encouragement. Glad you are enjoying the story. 

Also to Lindaleriel, I am flattered my humble little story has made its way into your C2 community. Glad you like it.


	18. And Tell You All

**And Tell You All**

The Comte de Chagny had not yielded in his disapproval of his son's foolish pursuit of yet another actress, but as Raoul was his only son, he had been forced to admit to himself that disowning the boy was simply not an option. The de Chagny name was far too valuable to Philippe.

To his relief, Mademoiselle Giry had not jumped into Raoul's waiting arms, as Christine Daae had seemed to do. No, this girl seemed to have a practical head on her shoulders. If only Raoul could be cured of his overly romantic notions, Philippe would be happy. Alas, the boy was destined to remain impractical about such things, much in the same way his mother was. And Philippe feared there was little to be done to prevent another blemish on the de Chagny name. He could only hope that Monsieur Ranier might still succeed in halting the progression of this ill advised courtship.

xXx

Jean Ranier was not a man who stepped lightly into ventures without being fully prepared. He had made enough inroads into the Paris theaters with the chorus girls to be able to retrieve valuable information on almost any happening. He knew what operas were being performed, which tenors were drunks, which divas worth their upkeep, and which managers were clueless to the backstage happenings occurring under their own noses.

He only needed some roses and a few sweet words of seduction to have anything he wanted. And at the moment, he wanted Marguerite Giry. He had thought being the patient suitor would be enough, but de Chagny had thwarted that tactic.

So he gently extricated all the gossip he could regarding Meg and the vicomte from the ballet rats at le Soliel, hoping to find an effective wedge to drive between them. He had already known about the boy's failed engagement to Christine Daae, and had been certain that would have been the perfect angle to play. But Meg was far more resistant than he'd given her credit for. Yet she did still have doubts; that was clear enough.

Jean had been overjoyed to hear from his sources that Meg was taking a leave from le Soliel. Traveling with her mother, apparently, and le Vicomte would remain in Paris. Another woman had left him much the same way, and a plan began to form in Jean's mind. The separation between the two would-be-lovers could be used to his advantage. Perhaps it was time to contemplate a little trip of his own.

xXx

"Where did you say the Rousseaus are living?"

Meg looked up from her tea at Raoul's question. The subject of her upcoming journey was not one she relished. She and her mother had constructed a careful mix of vague truth and evasion to explain their trip, but uttering such half truths to Raoul made her feel horrible. She carefully schooled her features to hide the guilt. "The coast."

He smiled. "Where on the coast?"

Meg raised a brow and grinned a little. "In a lovely little cottage, according to their letters."

Raoul raised his own brow at her teasing. "Meg…I mean to ask you what city you will be traveling to."

She sighed, giving him another partial truth. "Maman and I will take the train to Calais."

"And from there?"

"Monsieur and Madame Rousseau live just outside the city." Not a lie, really. They did live outside the city, just not Calais.

Raoul nodded, seemingly satisfied with that. "May I write you, Meg?"

Meg paused over her tea, trying to think of how to respond to that. "I…am…not certain of the address yet."

"Then you will write to me when you arrive."

_Damn._ She should have realized he would expect that. "I...I will try to."

His happy countenance slipped at her evasiveness. "Try...? Meg, are you keeping something from me?"

"No!" She answered a little too quickly, and tried to smooth over her anxiety. "No, of course not. It is only that I am not certain how soon I will have a free moment. You know how time can disappear so easily when you are catching up with old friends."

Raoul continued to study her with a frown. "Yes, I suppose." He hated the thought of her leaving Paris for so long, and he finally mentioned the idea that had been forming for some time. "Meg, perhaps I should make arrangements to travel with you."

"No! Raoul, that is not necessary."

"But you and your mother should not be traveling unescorted. It isn't safe."

"We will be perfectly fine, Raoul. You really don't need to worry"

His eyes softened on her. "But I do, Meg. It would be no difficulty for me to book passage to Calais."

She stubbornly shook her head. "I cannot allow you to do such a thing. You have more important matters to see to than playing chaperone."

"Really, Meg, I have nothing more important…"

"Raoul, stop! Please."

Raoul dropped his eyes to hide the disappointment. "You…don't want me to accompany you."

"I'm sorry."

Pushing away the childish hurt he felt at her admission, Raoul sighed resignedly. "No…I…should not have presumed to intrude."

Meg could not bear to have him look so unhappy.She reached out to cover his hand with her own and smiled softly at him. "Your heart is in the right place."

He moved his hand to twine their fingers together, his tone serious. "Yes, Meg. It is."

Her breath caught at the intensity in his eyes. "It is only two months, Raoul."

"It will feel like a lifetime."

Their gazes held, blue against blue, and Raoul easily pulled her into his arms. His kiss was soft at first, but the idea of being parted from her fed the desperation of his mouth on hers. Even when they were forced to breathe, Raoul could not bear to lose contact with her entirely, and he peppered little kisses on the corner of her mouth, her cheek, beneath her ear.

Between kisses, he whispered raggedly. "Perhaps…when you return…you might be ready to…embrace our future."

Her reply was a breathless whisper. "Perhaps."

It was a very long time later before Raoul finally forced himself to bid Meg goodnight. He was a gentleman, after all.

xXx

Raoul insisted on escorting Meg and Madame Giry to the train station in his own carriage. Antoinette Giry could not help but notice the intensity with which the young vicomte gazed at her daughter. There was no longer any question in her mind that the boy was truly in love with her little Meg. But she well understood her daughter's fears. Not only did the memory of Christine stand between them, but also Raoul's title and family seemed an insurmountable obstacle.

Meg had broken down in her mother's arms the morning after Raoul had professed his love. She had confessed all her doubts and admitted her inability to give him the words that had been in her heart for so long. Antoinette had not been able to offer any words to console her, knowing that the path her daughter's heart had taken could never be an easy one. Meg did not possess either the wealth or noble blood to gain an entirely respectable entry into the upper-class society. And it seemed Meg was more conscious of these matters than le vicomte.

Antoinette could not help but be proud of her daughter. She had not foolishly fallen into Raoul's arms expecting everything to work out for the best, but was thinking carefully on the future. And she, more that he, had been always careful to keep their relationship discreet when they were in the public eye. As it was, those thoughtless little brats at the theater whispered about her daughter's virtue. Though Antoinette faulted Meg's brief association Monsieur Ranier for that more than her growing closeness to the vicomte.

She was glad of this trip to Dover. The time away could only help Meg find some clarity. And perhaps being able to talk with Christine again would provide some much needed guidance. If le vicomte still felt as strongly for Meg when they returned to Paris, then perhaps Meg would be ready to take the chance on a future with him.

As the porter loaded the cases onto the train, Antoinette watched Raoul take Meg's hand. The look that passed between them was not one that could be confused for friendship.

"I will miss you, Meg."

"And I you."

Raoul glanced briefly at Antoinette. "You will both take care of yourselves..." His eyes fell back on Meg. "And write me so I may know you have arrived safely."

Meg found herself nodding. "I will post a letter when we reach Calais." _What harm could come of that_, she thought.

Raoul lifted Meg's hand to his lips, his voice dropping to a whisper. "My days will be dark indeed until you return, sweet Meg."

The train whistle sounded, and Antoinette placed a hand on her daughter's arm. "We must board now, Meg."

Raoul let go of Meg's hand with reluctance. "Allow me to help you both up."

Antoinette smiled at Raoul. "Thank you, Vicomte."

He took Madame Giry's hand first as she stepped up into the car. When she was safely inside, he reached for Meg's hand once again. "You are taking my heart with you, Meg. I'm trusting you to bring it back to me safely."

She smiled softly, and before she lost the nerve, she rose up on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "I shall try me best, Raoul."

Meg quickly grabbed the rail and stepped up into the car, turning to smile once more at the man who held her heart.

Raoul watched from the platform as the train pulled away from the Paris station, and remained long after the last puff of smoke faded from the horizon.

* * *

**A/N:** Alas, parting is such sweet sorrow. Stay tuned. 


	19. Very Rough

**Very Rough**

Even before the train to Calais lurched into motion, Meg and Madame Giry had met with their first obstacle to a safe journey. The porter had shown them to their compartment, and as Meg turned to enter, a horrified little cry escaped her lips. For there, already seated with a book open in his hands and a devilish grin upon his face, was Jean Ranier.

"Jean!"

"Good morning, my dear Marguerite. It is a lovely day to travel, is it not?"

Too stunned to speak, Meg merely stood staring at him with her eyes wide and mouth open in a most unladylike way.

Antoinette Giry, who had nearly collided into her daughter's suddenly immobile form, stiffened at the sound of the obnoxious man's voice. Giving Meg a little push from behind, she squeezed into the compartment and glared at the devil. "Monsieur Ranier. What is the meaning of this?"

He looked around innocently. "Why Madame Giry, I am traveling, of course. And what a wonderful coincidence that I should have the pleasure of two such beautiful ladies for company."

Meg, having finally snapped out of her shock, gave a short, disbelieving laugh. "Please Jean, you told me yourself you do not believe in coincidence. Only careful planning."

Jean dropped his book to the seat beside him. "Mmm. So I did. But please, won't you both take your seats? We will have more than sufficient time for discussion."

Antoinette scoffed. "My daughter and I have no intention of being subjected to your company. I am going to find the porter and demand to be given other seats."

Jean chuckled. "I assure you, this passage is quite booked. Indeed, I was lucky to obtain a place on board."

"We shall see."

With that, Antoinette Giry went off in search of satisfaction. Meg, however, sank into the seat across from Jean, having realized that they would likely be in close quarters until reaching their destination. "Tell me, Jean. How did you arrange this?"

"Is it so difficult to imagine that I might actually have business to attend to outside of Paris? I am, after all, in sudden need of a prima ballerina for the Opera."

"There are several in Paris who would jump at the chance, Jean."

"Mmm. Perhaps, but I am feeling the need to discover someone who has never before been seen in Paris. The coast is as good a place as any to begin my hunt for talent, don't you think?"

"On this day…this train…this compartment?"

He raised a brow and grinned. "It _is_ convenient."

"Arranged by your hand, more the like. Do I even want to know how you managed to find out my plans?"

"Probably not. But I must say I am hurt you did not think to tell me yourself. Or even say goodbye."

Meg's eyes flashed. "If you recall, Jean, I did say goodbye! I left no doubt of my decision where you are concerned."

"Your kiss told me differently."

The color drained from Meg's flushed complexion. "How dare you! I never invited such attention from you, and you are a scoundrel to mention your actions now."

He laughed again. "I never claimed to be otherwise. Come now, Marguerite, you are no shrinking violet. I think that is what intrigues me most about you. On the surface, you are every bit the proper and innocent lady, but your true passionate nature glimmers behind your exquisite eyes. I noticed it the very moment we met, and I confess that I am unable to resist the unique combination."

_Damn the man! How is it he can be so devious, yet still manage to go about it in such a charming way?_

Ignoring the utterly improper pleasure she felt at his words, Meg shot him a withering glance. "Perhaps you should try to resist. You could use a bit of propriety."

"Perhaps you should make it your personal mission to make a respectable man of me."

"Jean, you promised this would end."

"No, I merely reassured you I had no need to force myself upon you. And I am forcing nothing, Marguerite."

"What do you call your presence here, then?"

"Opportunity."

"It will change nothing."

"We shall see, my dear."

Just then, Antoinette reentered the compartment, looking very displeased. She took the seat next to Meg with a cold glare. "Monsieur Ranier, I do not know how you have managed to arrange this unfortunate situation, but I assure you that I will not permit you to carry out whatever plans you are making."

"Madame, I assure you I have no plans in the making. Only a great deal of hopefulness."

His emerald eyes fastened onto Meg, who turned quickly away, grabbing her mothers hands.

"Do not worry, Maman. Monsieur Ranier and I have reached an understanding." She shot a heated look back to Jean. "Have we not?"

"Yes. Marguerite and I understand one another perfectly." His grin widened. "Now, whatever shall we discuss to pass the time?"

Meg sighed, thinking this was going to be a very long journey indeed.

In fact, the journey to Calais was not nearly as bad as Meg had anticipated. The first hour or so had dragged on in excruciating silence, until Antoinette Giry had drifted off to sleep and conversation between Meg and Jean had resumed.

Although Meg was rightfully angry at his scheming, there was simply something about his unapologetic nature that appealed to her. She had always enjoyed listening to him talk, and had a guilty fondness for their verbal spars even now. Meg knew that if her heart had not already belong to Raoul, she might have easily allowed herself to succumb to Jean.

Meg doubted that such a foolish action would have given her any chance of real happiness. She knew that with Raoul, she would always face the memory of Christine, not to mention the difference of their classes. But with Jean, Meg was fairly certain there would be more than one woman arousing her own insecurities. He would certainly make a better lover than a husband, if she were in the market for such a thing. Which she was not.

She hadn't even thought herself in the market for a husband, having been perfectly content to dance and act and generally enjoy her youth. She'd had a few suitors in the past, nothing serious at all, just boys who had brought flowers and candies back stage at the Opera. Most of them had just been looking for a quick thrill, and realizing that she wasn't the sort, they'd fast moved along to one of the more willing girls.

Meg had never been bothered by it, as a serious suitor would have proved too much a distraction to her. And she had certainly been right, as she was terribly distracted now by both Raoul and Jean. At least Jean was a distraction she could easily do without. Raoul was another matter entirely.

When the train finally rolled into Calais in the evening hours, Jean insisted on escorting both ladies to a little inn near the station to ensure that they had room and board for the night. At first he had thought to secure himself a room there as well, but Madame Giry had informed him that they would not stay under the same roof with him.

"If you are staying here, sir, then we will find other accommodations."

Jean chuckled. "Very well." He winked at Meg. "We must think of propriety, after all. Might I at least return in the morning to see you off?"

Such a thing was unwise, considering that they were not finishing their journey by coach, but by steamer. And for Jean to know that was unacceptable, as he had already proven he could never be trusted not to follow.

Antoinette shot him a disapproving look. "That will not be necessary, Monsieur."

He nodded to her, and turned back to Meg. "Safe journey, Marguerite. Until we next meet, my dear."

With that, he bid them both goodnight. Jean felt entirely pleased with the day, as Meg had seemed to soften towards him once again. He would leave her to her little visit in peace, as he certainly had no desire to pass boring days in the country, nor did he wish to continue locking horns with her mother. Calais had some rather interesting entertainment prospects he wanted to explore. Jean planned to enjoy his trip to the fullest, certain his current dealings in Paris were being handled as he had instructed.

Suspicious of Jean's presence in Calais, Meg and Madame Giry had risen in the early hours of dawn and discreetly inquired with the innkeeper about booking passage on a steamer. A hansom had taken them to port, twenty miles from Dover and only a day from seeing Christine and Erik once again.

* * *

**A/N:** I know...that annoying plot bunny just refuses to die. You really didn't think Jean would just give up, did you? 


	20. They Leave Me

**They Leave Me**

Meg and Antoinette Giry arrived in Dover without further incident and made their way directly to the Gate Inn, as they had been intructed by Christine's last letter. As they entered the lobby, Meg glanced briefly to the innkeeper. "Maman, should we ask…?"

Meg's voice dropped completely away as she caught sight of the man who had suddenly appeared in the small doorway that led to the parlor. He was dressed all in black, his dark hair combed neatly back, and a tan leather half mask covering the right side of his face. But perhaps the most arresting thing about him on this day was the almost hesitant smile upon his face.

Antoinette followed the line of her daughter's eyes and her own mouth turned up in a smile. "Erik." She moved towards him, and Meg followed.

Erik nodded. "Madame Giry, Mademoiselle. I…hope you had a pleasant journey."

Antoinette cast a meaningful look at Meg. "Only a small unpleasantness on the train to Calais. But no trouble otherwise. You look…well."

Indeed, Meg thought he looked very handsome standing in the light, if not entirely comfortable.

"I am. As is Christine. I have been instructed to bring you both to her at once, and it is best not to disappoint her these days."

This was said with an ironic lift of his brow, and Antoinette chuckled in understanding. She well remembered the mood swings of her own pregnancy so long ago. "Then we should go at once."

Erik helped them with their bags and guided them towards his carriage. He helped them both up into the back seat and took his place at the reigns. With a click, they were on their way.

He glanced back over his shoulder at the ladies. "Our house is not very far outside of town; a forty-five minute ride at most."

Meg nodded. "It is a lovely countryside."

"Mm." Erik had already turned back around and made no other attempt at conversation for the rest of the ride.

The little cottage that Christine had mentioned in her letters was not exactly little. It was a very attractive small manor, at least as big as the Marseille House that Meg and her mother had been staying in. And that house had once been considered a good sized Paris Villa before the Marseille family had fallen on hard times and been forced to let the rooms to the public.

The house was set back from the main road and surrounded by trees, so that one could not see it well until turning into the dirt driveway which opened under the archway of a stone fence. It seemed somehow a perfect place to picture Erik and Christine, and Meg could not wait to get inside to see her friend.

As it happened, Christine's own impatience had gotten the better of her. The carriage had barely come to a stop before the front door was swinging open and Christine came racing out. Well, as much as a woman in her eighth month of pregnancy can race.

Erik, who was helping Meg to the ground, slanted his wife an exasperated look, but did not comment at her eagerness.

Christine came to a stop with one hand pressed to her burgeoning belly and the other against her back; her bright smile lighting her entire face. "Oh, you are finally here! I have missed you both so."

Meg knew her own smile must be as bright as Christine's, and the moment her feet were firmly on the ground she found herself in her friend's embrace. "It is so good to see you again, Christine." Meg pulled back slightly and cast her twinkling eyes downward. "All of you."

Christine laughed. "Yes, there is quite a bit more of me now, isn't there?"

By this time, Madame Giry was on the ground as well and laying a hand on Christine's arm. "You look wonderful, Christine. And in good health."

"I am. We are." And she laid a protective hand over her stomach again.

"Come now, ladies, there's no reason to stand about outside all evening."

Christine grinned at Erik. "That would be Erik's polite way of telling me I should go inside and sit down. He does worry so."

Erik glanced away nervously, and Meg could almost swear she had seen his cheek color.

Antoinette chuckled. "At any rate, he is right. I would love a nice comfortable seat while my head stops spinning from all this motion."

With that, the foursome made their way inside to begin the serious business of catching up. The Rousseaus and the Girys spent hours talking about everything and nothing in particular. The housekeeper, a pleasant middle aged woman named Katie, had brought tea and sandwiches and fussed over Meg and Antoinette, who, she was quick to say, her employers had repeatedly spoken of so fondly.

Conversation had begun with the story of Christine and Erik's trip to Dover. Antoinette had wanted to be certain they had no trouble with Erik being recognized.

"None at all, Antoinette. Quite surprising, really. No one outside Paris seemed bright enough to realize who they were dealing with."

"Erik, that isn't nice!" Christine had scolded him, but she had agreed they had been very lucky indeed.

Erik had talked a little about meeting his employer, Mr. Crawford, and securing a job. It had been Crawford who had pointed Erik to the house.

"It is a lovely house." Meg had gushed, and Christine had promised a full tour after dinner. One Erik would guide, as he insisted that Christine should rest.

Of course, the topic of conversation turned eventually, as it must, to the baby. Erik had sat stiffly for a little while, then grumbled about being outnumbered and excused himself. Christine watched him go with a little frown.

Antoinette took note of this. "He is still reluctant to talk much about the child?"

Christine sighed. "Yes. There are moments when he seems so happy and we talk with ease . Then it's as if he remembers that he has no right to be so content. He'll lock himself away in his music room and compose for hours."

"He is worried for you, child. Surely you can see that."

"I would rather he be worried with me, Madame. I feel so alone in this sometimes."

Meg clasped Christine's hand and grinned. "Maman and I are here now, so there will be no more of that."

Antoinette spoke again. "Perhaps I should attempt to talk with Erik?"

Christine smiled gratefully. "Oh, Madame Giry, would you?"

Antoinette chuckled and stood. "Of course, and Christine, you are a married woman now. You really must start to call me Antoinette."

Christine blushed. "Thank you."

When Meg and Christine were alone, Meg grinned broadly. "A married lady. Matronly, even. How droll."

Christine giggled. "Stop it, Meg."

Meg scooted closer on the sofa. "Tell me, Christine, what is it like?"

"Marriage?"

"Yes. And…this…?" Meg dropped her gaze to indicate Christine's pregnancy. "I simply cannot imagine it."

Christine's dark eyes took on a slightly dreamy expression. "It is wonderful Meg. I do not think words can do justice to the utter amazement I feel each day. I am in complete awe that the love Erik and I share has created this life within me. I can barely believe how close I came to never knowing this…to turning away from Erik forever."

"But you did not. And now look at you."

Christine laughed again, making a show of patting her belly. "Yes, look at me. I am beginning to wonder if I shall _ever _regain my figure."

"It won't be much longer, Christine."

Christine sighed and grew serious. "I know. I worry about Erik if something should happen to me."

Meg frowned deeply. "Christine! You mustn't say such things."

"I would be shortsighted indeed not to have thought of all the possibilities, Meg. I know Erik is thinking of them as well, but he won't talk to me honestly about his fears. We have managed to muddle through a stilted discussion once or twice, but it is always him reassuring me not to worry, or me reassuring him. We never can seem to make any actual plans, in case…"

Meg shuddered a little at Christine's unfinished thought. "Perhaps Maman will be able to help."

"I hope so." Christine shook her head and sighed.

"Well, now that I have thoroughly depressed us both, tell me more about this Monsieur Ranier."

Meg smiled and raised her brows. "There is not much to tell."

"Come now, Meg. I am dying to know what has been happening with you."

Meg dropped her eyes slightly. "Very little really. You've had most of it in my letters. And Jean is…difficult to describe."

Christine grinned mischievously. "Try."

Meg sighed. "Picture Erik without the mask or the moodiness, and then make him a charming rascal."

Christine laughed. "Erik _is_ a charming rascal when he wants to be."

"But Erik is not a rake."

"No, that is certainly one worry I shall never have to face. I know Erik is completely mine."

"And Jean would never be completely mine. So I shall never be his."

Christine eyed her friend carefully. "Why do I sense there is more you are not telling me?"

Meg shrugged. "He is a very determined rake."

"And you are worried his determination will wear down your resistance?"

Meg thought of what Raoul's reaction would be if he were to discover Jean's latest ploy. "Not precisely. But I am certainly happy to have some time away."

_For more reasons that one._

Christine nodded. "Time away can certainly bring a new perspective to things. And speaking of time…how is…Raoul?"

_And there it was, the dreaded subject_. The entire journey here, Meg had debated with herself how much and how soon she would tell Christine. Now faced with the topic sooner than she would have liked, she realized she wasn't quite ready yet for complete disclosure.

"Raoul is…doing well. His parents have recently come to Paris, and they have been attending the theater. He seems…happy."

Christine smiled in relief. "I am so glad to hear that. I want him to be happy again."

Meg forced a smile and glanced over Christine's shoulder to avoid meeting her eyes.

"I know you do, Christine."

"Is he…seeing anyone?"

Meg jerked her gaze back to her friend, searching for any sign that Christine might be upset by the thought. She saw only curiosity. "I…well…actually… he…is."

Christine smiled slowly. "Is it serious, do you know?"

Meg cleared her throat. _That is the pressing question, is it not?_

She chose her words carefully and again avoided meeting Christine's gaze. "He…has told me he…is in love." Then she rushed to add her deepest worry. "But I…cannot help but wonder if he is really over his love for you."

Christine frowned. "Raoul would not profess to love a woman if does not. He is too much a gentleman."

"I don't doubt his honor. Certainly…he _believes _himself to be in love. I only wonder if he is being completely honest with himself."

Christine looked away in guilt. "As I was not honest with myself?"

Meg grimaced at causing her friend to relive her own guilt over everything that had happened. "Christine, you must stop punishing yourself for the past. Raoul's happiness is not your responsibility any longer. You should be concentrating on your own happiness."

Christine nodded, a small frown still on her lips. "You're right, of course. But I fear the guilt will never completely leave me. Do you think this woman will make him happy, Meg?"

Meg looked to the floor, her own guilt eating at her. "I…cannot say, Christine. Only time will tell."

_A little more time_, Meg thought. _And I will tell you everything, Christine. And I pray you will not hate me for it._

* * *

**A/N:** Hmm...wonder how Christine will take the news. Stay tuned, dear readers. 


	21. All In Pieces

**All In Pieces**

Meg had barely been gone more than a week when Raoul's world had once again shifted on its axis. He'd had business with Francois LeCleur at le Soliel to discuss the next production, an operetta with no intricate ballet due to the absence of Madame Giry and Meg. Even Yvette Dubois was apparently still indisposed; in fact the rumor was that she was _enceinte._

But that was not the rumor that shook Raoul to his very core. No, indeed, it was the wicked gossip regarding Meg that had his heart on the floor. The moment Raoul entered the theater, he sensed something in the air. The ballet rats began snickering. The tenor shot him a sympathetic look. And the soprano gave him a blatant look of interest.

His presence had never before brought about such a strange tension. Raoul mentioned this to Francois, who had been endearingly unaware that anything was amiss. But concerned that the vicomte had been offended, the older man had immediately pulled aside one of the younger chorus girls to demand an explanation. The girl, Julia, blushed and stuttered, unwilling to look Raoul in the eyes.

"Come now, Julia, tell us what the devil is causing such a disruption to my theater today."

"I really c-cannot say, sir."

"Child, if you do not confess the cause of this this rude behavior towards le vicomte, you will soon be in need of other employment."

Raoul had grimaced, not wishing Francois to threaten the poor girl in such a way. Julia's eyes widened and she glanced over her shoulder as if seeking support. Finding none, she turned back with eyes cast downward and spoke in a very quiet voice. "S-sirs, please f-forgive me…but…t-they have been saying that…M-Meg Giry has s-secretly eloped with…Monsieur Ranier."

Just the thought of such a thing caused Raoul's heart to stop for a moment and his face to pale.

_Eloped? No!_

Francois bellowed. "What! That is preposterous!"

Raoul struggled for breath against the tightness of his chest, and when he finally spoke, his voice was calmer than his nerves. "Mademoiselle Giry has not eloped. She and her mother are visiting friends on the coast."

Little Julia finally looked up from the floor, but still did not meet the eyes of the vicomte. "That is what they said, yes. B-but the friends are ones that had never before been mentioned, sir. And they…d-did not leave an address…nor give a return date. And…M-monsieur Ranier told…one of the girls…that he was intending to travel soon with…with the woman he planned to m-marry."

At that, Raoul felt sick. Every word the girl spoke had the ring of truth. Images of Meg in Ranier's arms came rushing to him, one after another. He heard Francois shouting again over the ringing in his own ears.

"That lying weasel! Madame Giry would never allow such a thing, girl! I will not have those ladies gossiped about in my theater! Do you all hear me?"

The staff scattered to the winds, leaving Raoul standing alone with Francois and feeling as though someone had run him through with a sword. The older man laid a reassuring hand on Raoul's shoulder. "My boy, you must not listen to such nonsense. That bastard undoubtedly wanted to stir up trouble."

"Y-yes, of course." He responded automatically.

But Raoul was thinking of how uneasy Meg had looked each time she had spoken of her journey. How insistent she had been that Raoul would not accompany her. That he was not to expect a letter right away. The note she had sent him from Calais was beyond brief, saying only that they had arrived safely. She had given no address to write to her, and there had been no return address on the envelope. _What if...?_

As if reading his thoughts, Francois shook his head. "Meg would never have done such a thing."

_But what if she had?_ And such a thing was surely not beyond Ranier. _God, no! Not again!_

Raoul tried to rid the wicked thoughts from his head, searching for composure. He had to know the truth. "If…you will excuse me, Francois."

Raoul was moving towards the doors before he'd completed the words. He heard Francois calling after him to wait, but he did not stop. He mounted his horse and set off in the direction of the Opera Populaire. He barely remembered the short ride, his mind in turmoil thinking of the all the tiny signs that seemed to lend authority to the horrible rumor.

Once at the Opera, Raoul forced his way into the building, demanding to see Jean Ranier; praying that the man was still in Paris and the gossip was entirely false. It was Ranier's assistant, a wiry little man in bottle cap glasses named Manet, who informed him, with no uncertainty, that Monsieur Ranier had left on the morning train to Calais last Monday on most important business. He had not known when he was to return, but he had assured his assistant that when he did, the Opera would have a new star.

Raoul felt heartsick, blindly wandering out of the building into the Paris streets. Everything he had heard today seemed to point to another betrayal, but Raoul could not bring himself to believe such a thing of Meg.

_But she never told you she was in love with you. She asked you for time, just as Christine had. And Christine left you…for that monster by all indications. Why would Meg want you when Christine had not?_

Raoul pressed a hand against his eyes, struggling to keep his emotions under control. Anger, pain, jealousy, and doubt all warred within him for dominance.

_Ranier had been on Meg's train. They had gone together. She could be with him now._

But it was a tiny little flicker of hope that would not be denied.

_Meg had no reason to lie to you. If she had wanted Ranier, she would never have told you otherwise_.

In his heart, Raoul knew that Meg would not have deceived him, but Jean Ranier was not beyond using deception to achieve his goals. Raoul had heard of the methods the man had employed in some previous business dealings. Was it not possible that all of this was a ploy to drive a wedge between Raoul and Meg? And Ranier would be waiting to capitalize.

_No. It will not be that easy._

Raoul would not simply stand idly by and let Jean Ranier play with their lives in such a way. He would hear the truth from Meg's own lips. He'd allowed Christine to slip away from him without a word, and he would not allow it to happen a second time.

Decision made, Raoul mounted his horse again and returned home. His parents were not in, and he was grateful for it, as he would not have to face making an explanation to them for his haste. He quickly packed a bag and informed his footman of his plans. Not half an hour later he was on his way to the Paris Station.

He could only hope that his path to Meg would not turn cold in Calais.

* * *

**A/N:** Poor Raoul...he's off hunting wabbits...I mean rabbits...oh that darn plot bunny. 


	22. Never Time Enough

**Never Time Enough**

Raoul's journey to Calais had not gone smoothly. Upon his inquiry at the Paris Station, he had found that the next train would not be boarding until the following afternoon. Impatient to sit and wait, he had ridden well into the evening to reach Amiens, where a morning train would board to the coast. He had endured a sleepless night, only to have the departure time delayed by several hours in the morning.

Now, having finally arrived in Calais, Raoul found himself again at a loss. He had not a clue as to where to begin his search for Meg, so he made his way over to the agent at the train station. He described Meg and Madame Giry to the man, and asked if he recalled seeing them. The agent had looked at Raoul with impatient disdain, curtly informing him that he saw so many people come though the station he couldn't be expected to remember them all.

Biting off his own angry reply, Raoul instead asked where the nearest inn was, hoping that Meg and her mother might have stopped there for the night before traveling on. Or, God forbid, if they were traveling with Ranier, that they would have been simply looking for convenient rooms. Or even a meal at the tavern.

As luck would have it, the innkeeper at the Hotel Escale had remembered them. The middle aged man had eyed Raoul warily at first, despite introducing himself as le Vicomte de Chagny. But a few francs had cured the man of his hesitancy at discussing former guests.

"Yes, Madame and Mademoiselle Giry did stay here for one night, sir."

"Did…did a gentleman come in with them? A Monsieur Ranier?"

"Mm. Don't recognize the name. I do recall seeing a man escort them in, but he didn't stay the night here. Tall fellow with dark hair. Seemed quite smitten with the young lady."

Raoul swore under his breath, clutching onto the fact that Ranier at least had not stayed at the inn with Meg.

"Did he return in the morning?"

"Don't recall seeing him in here again, sir, but I can't say for certain."

Raoul pressed on with his questioning. "Did the ladies happen to mention a couple named Rousseau?"

"No, sir, can't say that they did. But they did ask about the steamer."

That caught Raoul off guard. "The steamer?"

"Mm. Inquired about booking passage to Dover. I told them how to get to port."

Raoul was left speechless. _Dover? Why on earth would they have gone to Dover?_

He'd made his way to port and had inquired once again about the Girys and Ranier, but no one seemed to recall them. Some sixth sense had told him that he should cross the channel, and as he could think of nowhere else to look in Calais, he decided to book passage to England.

xXx

Raoul did not have nearly as much luck upon arriving in Dover, and indeed began to think finding Meg would be hopeless. He tried six inns, eight cafés and two pubs with no luck, and been tempted to drink himself under the table. It wasn't until he'd stumbled into the Gate Inn that he'd finally found what he'd been looking for.

The innkeeper, a mister Bennett, was a burly sort with thinning hair and a thick cockney accent. Raoul once again described Meg and her mother, and the man had shaken his head. "I've had no single ladies stayin' 'ere recently, sir."

That begged the question Raoul was trying to avoid. "What about a Frenchman named Ranier?"

"Nope. No one by that name."

Raoul sighed. "I see." Before he turned to leave, Raoul tried one last possibility. "You wouldn't know the name Rousseau, by any chance?"

Bennett's eyes flashed with recognition, and he'd smiled a toothy grin. "Aye. An architect, that one! Stayed 'ere awhile wit' his wife, he did. Moved to a house down the shore. Come to mention it, I did see 'im in 'ere a couple of weeks ago talking to two ladies in the parlor; one older, one pretty little blond. Lucky devil he is, wot wit' the beauty he's already got at 'ome."

Raoul had been getting more excited with every word out of Mister Bennett's mouth. But he had believed the Rousseaus to be an older couple in ill health, and the revelation that Bennett thought Madame Rousseau was a beauty challenged that idea. Still…it could not be a coincidence.

"Might you be able to tell me where to find the home of Monsieur and Madame Rousseau?"

Bennett narrowed his eyes a little. "Wit' all due respect, sir. Rousseau ain't one to go messing about wit'. You ain't planning' on causin' any trouble, now, are ya?"

Raoul frowned. This was making even less sense to him. The Rousseaus sounded nothing like Meg had described…what little she had described. And why had she not wanted him to know that they lived in England?

_Unless…_

_No. No, it couldn't be._

He cleared his throat. "My business is with the young mademoiselle you saw him with. I…must…speak with her."

Bennett grinned wolfishly. "Ah…your lady, is she?"

"I…yes."

The man eyed Raoul another moment before nodding. "You'll want to head up Barton Back towards Canterbury…'bout four miles, give or take. Rousseau bought the ol' Howard place. Nice little house wit' a stone fence, it is."

Raoul replied with a terse "Thank you."

As he left the Gate Inn, his mind was reeling with the information that Bennett had given him.

_Who were Monsieur and Madame Rousseau? Could it possibly be…?_

"Christine?" He whispered to himself.

Raoul had realized long ago that Meg knew more about Christine's exodus from Paris than she would ever say. He had asked her many times during their first conversations, but it became quickly clear that Meg would never betray her friend. Regardless of what Meg would not tell him, Raoul had always suspected that Christine had left to be with _him_. The Phantom.

He had hated the thought of it. Hated even more that he could never be entirely certain…never ask Christine why she would choose that monster. How she could forgive him for all the evil he had brought about.

But Raoul had wanted Christine to be happy, and so he had not chased after her. Nor had he pressured Meg and her mother to reveal Christine's secrets. He had forced himself to accept that Christine was gone, and the entire subject became the elephant in the room that he and Meg could never speak of.

Was it any wonder that Meg had not fallen into his open arms at his declaration of love?

_You told Meg that Christine is only a memory. But is she? Now when you might see her again, how will you feel?_

_Oh, Meg. Why did you lie to me?_

_And what in the hell does Ranier have to do with any of this?_

Raoul's hand shook as he attempted to flag a hansom. Perhaps he was seeing ghosts that did not exist. Bennett had said nothing to prove that Rousseau had any connection to Christine. He had said Rousseau was an architect, not a composer. And he had not mentioned a deformity, or a mask.

_Ah, but you didn't ask him that either._

_And why would Meg and her mother go to such lengths to keep their presence in Dover a secret?_

_Who else could they be protecting?_

There was only one way to find out. Raoul secured a coach and repeated the instructions Bennett had given him. The coachman nodded and they were on their way. Raoul would soon have his answers.

As the driver pulled up to the Rousseau house, Raoul found himself second guessing his decision to come here. He was not invited, nor even expected and he could not be certain who would open the door when he knocked. But merely sitting in Dover hoping to catch a glimpse of Meg had not been an option.

He asked the driver to remain, in case he discovered that he truly had no business here, and stood at the door, hand poised to ring the bell. He fingered his cane nervously, as it concealed a blade he might be forced to use if Monsieur Rousseau turned out, in fact, to be the phantom.

_But surely even _he _would not risk upsetting Christine by committing murder on her front doorstep._

**

* * *

**

**A/N:** One teeny tiny little cliffhanger...you've probably all noticed by now I don't tend to do much of that. I have made our dear Vicomte an intelligent man in this story, but he does have his dimmer moments...like this one.

Reviews and comments welcome.


	23. Missing Pages

**Missing Pages**

Raoul, of course, had no way to know that Erik had seen his approach to the house. The habit born of years of setting booby traps had not simply disappeared with a new location. He had known the moment the unexpected carriage had turned onto his property.

Erik had thought at first it might be his employer, Mister Crawford, as he had a habit of dropping by for visits. Glancing out the window of his office, he caught sight of the man exiting the coach and had at once recognized the figure he had hoped to never see again.

The familiar murderous rage had crept over him, right and wrong fading into red as his focus sharpened on protecting what was his. His quick calculations told him that there was no one around to see except the driver of the cab, and he could easily be disposed of. Meg and Christine were out for a brief walk in the orchard. Antoinette was upstairs resting, and Katie had gone to the market. Erik slid open the drawer of his desk and his fingers touched the rope within.

He had been expecting the interfering boy. The bastard had likely been playing on Meg and Antoinette's sympathies, all the while watching over them closely until they would lead him to Christine. Erik's eyes darted down the driveway.

_No police_.

_Was the fop really foolish enough to come here alone?_

Erik grinned evilly. _Of course he was. Just as before._

_You will not take her away from me now, Vicomte._

Erik lopped to the door just as the bell chimed. With all the cold grace of his former life, he swung the door in and with one fluid motion, Raoul was dragged into the house and the noose was around his neck. Erik slammed the door behind him as he roughly shoved the boy face first into the wall.

Raoul gasped for breath, barely having registered who it was that had stood before him, but the feel of a rope tightening around his neck was enough to tell him he'd walked blindly into the phantom's trap once again. He struggled vainly against the demon's weight pressing him to the wall as the familiar voice hissed in his ear. "Give me one reason, Vicomte, why I should not kill you for invading my home?"

Light was dimming at the edges of Raoul's vision. All he could think was that he was going to die. One pleading word slipped from his tongue.

"Meg…"

Erik's brow shot up, completely taken off guard. He had been expecting the boy to beg for Christine. Curiosity got the better of him, and he slowly let the rope loosen as Raoul slipped to his knees, gasping for breath.

There was an impatient ring of the front bell, then a knock. Erik turned away from his victim and jerked the door open to reveal the cab driver. The boy's eyes fell to the vicomte on the ground, then lifted back to Erik. His bored expression barely changed. "He stayin' or goin', gov'ner?"

Erik glanced back to Raoul, who was regaining his color. "Staying. You may leave." He shut the door in the boy's face, and turned to see Raoul reaching for his fallen cane. Erik grinned and placed one boot over it. "Ah ah, le Vicomte. If you need help standing, you may ask me." In a deft move, Erik tucked the toe of his boot under the cane and kicked it up into his own waiting hand.

Raoul glared at the fiend, pushing himself weakly back to his feet. His voice was hoarse and painful. "You bastard! You tried to kill me."

"As I would any uninvited pest in my home." Erik pulled the blade free from its sheathe and his eyes turned deadly again. "Now tell me quickly why you are here, boy, or I will finish the job."

Raoul stood seething, his own blade turned on him by the phantom. He would tell the monster nothing. He glared in contempt. "You took her after all. Stole her away."

Erik pressed the tip of the blade against Raoul's throat, his eyes growing even colder. "I have stolen nothing! Only claimed what was mine. What has always been mine."

"Erik!"

Both men turned at the sound of Christine's horrified voice. Caught in their rivalry, neither had heard her enter the house. Now she stood wide eyed and fearful with Meg just behind her wearing a matching expression.

"What are you doing? Let him go, please."

Christine's plea drained away his anger and Erik sighed, dropping the sword from Raoul's throat. "She saves you once again, Vicomte."

Raoul barely registered the words, his eyes were wholly fastened on Christine. It had been six months since he had seen her, and nothing could have prepared him for the sight of her heavily swollen with child.

"Christine?" He moved towards her as if in a trance, his eyes never leaving her. Christine stood trembling slightly with both hands resting protectively over her belly.

Meg watched Raoul's expression through tears of pain. Every question she'd had about his feelings plainly answered by the tortured look in his eyes; his very presence here.

Suddenly, the dazed look in Raoul's eyes seemed to clear, and his brows dropped in confused anger. "God, what has he done to you?"

Christine's spine stiffened at his tone, her reply laced with her own anger at his implication. "Nothing I have not asked him to, Raoul." Erik chuckled at his wife's biting retort, until she glared at him. "Do you think you are forgiven for attempting to spill blood in my hallway?"

Erik sobered immediately. "It is le Vicomte's own blade, mon ange."

"I do not care." Her eyes filled with tears, voice trembling. "You promised me, Erik." Christine's eyes whipped back to Raoul. "Why did you come here? Why couldn't you just let us be?" She spun rather awkwardly and rushed into Meg's arms, who was battling her own tears and still staring at Raoul.

Raoul's eyes followed Christine's movement, finally looking to Meg, and his stomach dropped to the floor. He had never seen her look at him in such a way; so full of anger and pain.

_What have I done?_, he thought.

"Meg…?"

"You've done enough." Meg's eyes turned fierce and she glared at Erik. "Both of you." Then her voice softened and she stroked Christine's hair. "Come now, Christine. You mustn't let them upset you. No harm was done." Meg's eyes jerked back up to Raoul, suddenly frightened. "Tell me you came alone, Raoul."

"I…?"

This brought Christine's head up again, and she turned her own frightened eyes toward Erik. "God, no, please…! Erik…?"

Erik was at her side in a heartbeat, and she fell into his embrace. Raoul watched the scene helplessly, thinking how strangely tender it seemed to see them together. "Sh, mon ange. It will be alright." He glared again at Raoul with murder in his eyes, but whatever he might have said or done was stopped by Meg's quiet demand.

"Raoul…answer me."

He looked at Meg again, stepping towards her only to have her take a step back. He frowned. "Of course I came alone. How can you ask me such a thing, Meg?"

"How? Raoul, you had me followed! I trusted you."

Raoul's frown deepened; his frustration finally loosening his tongue. "You call this trust? You lied to me, Meg! All you told me of this trip was so perfectly calculated to keep me in the dark! And I believed every word…because I believed in you. Just as I believed you when you told me Ranier meant nothing to you!"

Her brows furrowed in angry confusion. "What has Jean to do with any of this?"

"Exactly what I wish to know! Where is he, Meg?"

"I…assume he is in Paris."

"He is not, and you well know it. Or will you deny to me that he traveled with you to Calais?"

Meg gasped. "How…?"

"He made no secret of the fact, Meg! Do you have any idea what it did to me to hear that you had eloped with him?"

This time the gasp came from Christine, who still stood wrapped in Erik's arms. They were both intently watching and listening to the other couple's argument; Christine's distress and Erik's anger both rapidly fading into blatant interest.

Meg only stared at Raoul dumbfounded, neither seeming to notice or care that they had an audience. "E-eloped? Where did you ever get an idea like that?"

Raoul growled. "The entire cast at le Soliel is gossiping about it! And the cad's assistant confirmed he had booked passage on your train."

Meg's gaped at him as she attempted to process what he was saying. "Jean…did travel with us, Raoul. But he was certainly not invited! And we parted company in Calais."

Raoul closed his eyes and took a breath. "Then you are not…his wife?"

"God, no!"

Raoul smiled for the first time since arriving in Dover. "Thank God. Meg…I thought…"

"You came after Meg, then?" Raoul and Meg both looked to Christine, who still stood in Erik's arms with a strange expression on her face.

"I…yes. It wasn't until I arrived in Dover that I began to realize…" He turned back to Meg with a frown. "You did lie to me."

Meg drew an unsteady breath, thinking again of the way he had looked at Christine. She whispered, "So did you."

Christine looked from her friend to her former fiancée, an emotion strangely akin to jealousy assaulting her. "Erik…" She looked to her husband. "I am suddenly feeling… very tired. Could we sit awhile?"

Erik tensed, but he was careful to push his own anger aside for Christine's sake. "Of course."

With a warning glare directed towards Raoul, he placed a comforting hand at his wife's back and guided her to the parlor. To Meg, he muttered in passing. "Come along, then."

Erik looked up as he passed the stairs and saw Madame Giry standing four steps from the bottom, obviously having heard most, if not all, of the conversation. She nodded to him and continued down, meeting Meg who was following with her eyes cast down.

Raoul was close behind her daughter's shoulder, still trying to regain her attention. "Meg, please…"

"Monsieur le Vicomte." Antoinette raised a brow at him, effectively stopping his progress as Meg slipped away. "So…_good_…of you to come."

"Madame. I…forgive me."

She moved past him in the direction of the parlor.

"It is not my forgiveness you will need, Monsieur."

* * *

**A/N:** Probably not _precisely_ the confrontation you were expecting, but then Erik is trying to be a good phantom for Christine's sake...and Raoul did come all the way to England chasing after _Meg_. But he still managed to muck it up, didn't he? 

Also--to Raven, welcome to the story. Thank you so much for your kind words. I'm glad you are enjoying it. Since you asked, there seem to be very few Meg/Raoul fics out there, off the top of my head, there is one called _You Are Not Alone_ by Soofija, good story though it ends rather abrubtly. Two very good ones can be found in the C2 Community, _**Project Ballet Rat**_ both by Alaura Fairfield. _La Petite Ingenue_ (a one-off and a bit darker) and _Warmth Beyond Winter_, which is sadly unfinished and hasn't been updated in awhile.


	24. Story Incomplete

**Story Incomplete**

Erik helped Christine to sit on the sofa in the parlor and knelt before her. Her eyes were fastened to Meg, who stood at the far side of the room staring out the window. Erik grit his teeth at the look on his wife's face, fighting to control his temper. He placed a hand over the swell of their child, more to comfort himself than her. This was the proof that Christine was_ his_.

Christine had sworn to him time and again that she felt only friendship for the Vicomte, but he'd felt her tension grow as little Meg had argued with the boy. It had become obvious to both Erik and Christine that Raoul had not come to hunt down his former fiancée and bring her captor to justice. The boy had come chasing after Meg in a fit of jealousy.

Erik could actually find the whole thing rather amusing, if Christine wasn't so upset by it all. He glanced at Meg, feeling a kinship to her pain. Antoinette entered the room and walked over to Meg, and Raoul came skulking in after. His eyes landed on Christine and Erik; pain evident on his face. Then he looked towards Meg.

Erik was on his feet and in front of the boy in a flash, to Christine's protest.

"Erik, no..."

He ignored her. "I will not have my wife upset any further. Or my guests. You will tell me now what your intentions are, Vicomte."

Raoul fought his anger. This man...this _Erik_...had tried to kill him more than once. Had succeeded in killing at least two men, and God only knew how many others. He had terrorized the Opera. Terrified Christine. And yet he had escaped all retribution. Raoul wanted nothing more than to bring it down upon him now.

But he could not do that to Christine, who sat staring at them now with wide fearful eyes and a child in her womb.

_A child that should have been mine,_ Raoul thought irritably.

Christine had begged Raoul for his protection. Clung to him in fear of the very man who stood now as her husband.

_Husband._

Raoul felt justified in his anger. But then he glanced toward the window again where Meg had turned her head, waiting for his answer and his anger dimmed. He had come to England thinking only of Meg, but now he could scarcely think at all...

Raoul turned back to Erik, straightening his spine. "I will do nothing to upset Christine's happiness, Monsieur. You have my word as a gentleman."

Meg bit back a little cry of despair. _Always Christine_. Unable to bear another moment of this horrible tension, she silently rushed towards the door with Madame Giry following close behind.

Raoul caught the movement from the corner of his eye and turned to follow, but Erik clapped a hand over his shoulder and growled under his breath. "You have done quite enough damage to that girl for one day, Vicomte."

Turning on him, Raoul violently shrugged Erik's hand away. "It is nothing compared to the damage you have wrought!"

"Raoul! Erik! Stop this, both of you!"

Erik backed off slightly, and Raoul couldn't help but think it an odd thing to see such a man so easily bow to Christine's will. It had always been so, really. Raoul felt a fool for not realizing sooner who truly yielded the power in their strange relationship. It seemed Christine had only needed the courage to use it.

But Erik was not completely domesticated. Anger glinted in his blue-green eyes as he turned to his wife. "What would you have me do, Christine? Shall I fade into the shadows again now that your vicomte has returned for you?"

Christine gasped. "Erik! Please! You know that I love you."

He cut her off cruelly. "Your words belie your expression, my dear." Erik turned to Raoul, the exposed side of his face twisted in pain and anger. "It seems, le Vicomte, that you and my wife still have some business to settle. Kindly inform me when you are through here."

With that, Erik stalked out of the room and Christine promptly burst into tears again.

Raoul stood staring at her, completely uncertain of what he was to do. There was a time when he would have wrapped her in his arms and comforted her, but it was no longer his place to do so. And, oddly, he found that he really had no urge to have her in his arms again.

_She is another man's wife. And the thought of it bothers me more for my hatred of the man than my love for her._

Still, Raoul hated to see her cry. He sat gingerly on the sofa beside her, careful to keep a distance between them. "Christine, please. You mustn't upset yourself so. It has been a trying day, to say the least. I am certain none of us have meant half of what has been said."

Christine drew a shaky breath and, after a moment, composed herself again. "Erik meant every word. And I know he is right." She met Raoul's blue eyes. "We are long overdue for this conversation, Raoul."

"Yes. I suppose that we are."

xXx

In the rear garden, Meg sat on a bench next to her mother in determined silence. She refused to cry one more tear over the sorry state of her affairs.

"You will feel better to talk about it, child."

"Talking changes nothing, Maman. You saw how he looked at her. Nothing has changed."

"I also heard what he said, Meg. He followed you here. Not Christine."

"But she _is_ here, Maman. Why he came makes no difference now."

Antoinette sighed. "I think you are wrong. It makes all the difference."

Meg only shook her head sadly, and returned to silence.

xXx

Erik paced his music room, resisting the urge to tear it to pieces. He should not have said what he did.

_But you always strike out at her. Like the poisonous viper you are._

But damn it, he was not wrong. Christine had been jealous at seeing Meg and Raoul together, even in argument. Was he expected to just ignore it?

Feeling caged and in need of air, he stomped to the mudroom and out the door. He contemplated saddling a horse and disappearing for a while, but he would not give that little fop the satisfaction.

He paced towards to orchard; thinking to howl and curse and rage away from easily offended ears...to calm the demon inside him. Passing the garden, Erik saw Meg and Antoinette sitting in awkward silence, and curiosity got the better of him.

As he approached, Antoinette stood in concern. "Erik. Is something wrong? Where are Christine and Raoul?"

Erik shot her a withering look. "Don't worry, Antoinette. I have not strangled them...yet."

"Erik! That is not even funny."

"Am I laughing?"

"You left them alone together?" This came from Meg, who was looking up at Erik with the same look of anguish that he knew was etched on his own face.

"They are..._talking_. Such as _friends_ do." Bitter sarcasm dripped from his words.

Meg looked away. Antoinette shook her head in disapproval. "Sulking like children will do neither of you any good. I will be inside when you have both decided to grow up."

Erik stared after her. "I am _not_ sulking."

Meg couldn't help the tiny giggle that bubbled up at his childish tone.

Erik glared at her. "You find this amusing, little Giry?"

She looked up at his expression, and began laughing outright. Erik only stared at her as if she had gone mad.

_Perhaps she had._

Then a chuckle escaped him as well, although he would have been hard pressed to explain why. Neither of them had anything to laugh about, but as Erik contemplated this, the entire chain of events suddenly struck him as very bizarre indeed, and his laughter increased.

Erik collapsed onto the bench next to Meg, and after several moments of breathless laughter, they both finally regained their composure. At least until Meg's tears of laughter changed and began to fall in earnest.

Erik had never been entirely certain what to do with a crying woman, and Christine was the only one he had ever cared to comfort at all. But this was Meg...and the pain and uncertainty she was feeling mirrored his own. He tentatively wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and was surprised when she turned into his embrace.

He tried to think of something comforting to say.

"You cannot really want that fop, can you?"

Meg jerked her head up. The angry gleam in her eyes told Erik that his attempt at comfort had been sorely lacking. "You know nothing of what I want."

Erik studied Meg thoughtfully. She had neither denied nor confirmed, only evaded.

_Clever girl._

"You must know you are too good for him, little Meg."

She sighed wearily. "The heart wants what it wants, Erik. For the better or the worse makes little difference. You should know that more than most."

"Yes. I suppose I do."

They sat in silence another moment, before Meg pointedly glanced up at the house. "Do you...do you think it will ever be settled?"

"Oh, it will be settled. But for the better or the worse, I cannot say."

* * *

**A/N:** I felt the need for a little Meg / Erik moment there. 

Welcome back, DragonheartRAB, your little comments always make me laugh and they are most appreciated.

Also, one more excellent story that I can't believe I forgot to mention is _The World As It Shoud Have Been_ by angeldreamerphantom. It has a good bit of RM in later chapters (though it is primarily an EC) but it's an epic, and still going, so be prepared for a very long but enjoyable read.


	25. Left Unfinished

**Left Unfinished**

"Are you happy, Christine?"

Christine saw the concern in Raoul's eyes, and she smiled in an attempt to reassure him. "I am, Raoul...for the first time in longer than I am able to recall."

He visibly blanched, and Christine knew she had hurt him with her words.

"How can you be? After what he has done... The way he has treated you...even today."

Anger flashed in her dark eyes. "As you said, Raoul, today has been trying. I do not think any of us expected that we would happily sit down to tea if we should ever meet again."

He gave a short shake of his head and scowled. "No. But I could have done without another attempt on my life."

Christine's voice softened marginally. "You did come to our house uninvited, Raoul. Can you really blame Erik for thinking you'd come to cause trouble for us?"

Frustration caused Raoul's voice to raise in volume. "I would never have come at all if anyone had bothered telling me the truth in the first place!"

Christine looked away in guilt. "I am sorry for that." She reached out and placed one delicate hand over his, meeting his eyes again. "I never meant to hurt you, Raoul. You must know that. I...was so confused about my feelings in the beginning. It was unfair of me to turn to you for answers that I should have found for myself."

Raoul closed his eyes and shook his head sadly. "You were in love with him all along, weren't you?"

"I...yes. I think I have always been in love with him...from the time I was a child and first heard my angel speak to me, comfort me and sing to me."

His eyes snapped open again, dancing with annoyance as he dragged his hand away from her touch. "He lied to you, Christine."

Now it was Christine who closed her eyes, briefly replaying the past behind her lids. "I know. And I lied to myself. I knew my feelings for Erik went deeper than any childish fantasy should have. When I thought him an angel, I wanted him to be real. I wanted him to be flesh and blood so I could love him as I'd dreamed. But when I finally knew he was a man, it was nothing like I imagined. I was afraid." She met Raoul's eyes with a sad smile. "My childish dreams were of men like...you. And you happened to come back into my life at the worst possible time, I think. I was not yet strong enough give Erik my heart, or to begin to heal his pain. So I pledged myself to you instead, knowing you would keep me safe."

Raoul drew a ragged breath. "Did you...ever love me?"

Christine determinedly took his hand again. "Yes. I did, Raoul. I loved you as my friend, and as my protector. And I honestly believed that I could love you as my husband. But, in the end, I knew it would never be enough. I would have forever been thinking of Erik, and you deserve so much more than to have to share your wife's heart with another."

Raoul grit his teeth. He had known this, of course. But to finally hear the words from Christine's own lips seemed only to reopen old wounds. "Why did you not just tell me all of this before? Why sneak off into the night with him without even a goodbye?"

Christine raised a brow. "Need you really ask that? Erik is a wanted man in France. Could you have really...wished us well and let us go?"

Raoul dropped his head slightly, rubbing his free hand over his brow, attempting to ease his tension. He sighed heavily before looking back up to Christine, knowing what she said was true. "I suppose at the time I would not have been very cooperative. But I have only ever wanted you to be happy, Christine. If he makes you so..."

She beamed at him, squeezing his hand again. "He does. If you could only see Erik as I do, I know you would understand. We belong together, Raoul."

Raoul smiled a little, glancing down at her middle. "So I see. When is the child due?"

Christine answered automatically. "Only another month or so."

Raoul started to congratulate her, then his smile dimmed as the penny finally dropped. "So...you and your husband were not exactly alone when you left Paris."

Christine stiffened a little. "No. We were not. And I have no regrets."

Raoul stood from the couch and paced to the window. It had been difficult enough to hear Christine finally admit the depth of her feelings for Erik, but to know that she had gone back to the man so quickly after breaking off their engagement was unsettling.

_Had I really been so insignificant to her?_

He knew, of course, that in the grand scheme of things, he had been. The question now was how he felt about her.

_Figure it out, man, or you'll lose Meg for certain._

Another penny dropped, and he mused. "I suppose this would be what has taken Meg and her mother so determinedly away from Paris. And why they could never say for certain when they would return."

Christine eyed Raoul speculatively. His words opened the other subject she was eager to discuss.

"Did you really think Meg had eloped with...what was his name again?"

Raoul whirled around and growled. "Ranier! Jean Ranier. And if you knew him as I do, you would understand my concern."

Christine tucked her tongue in her cheek and smiled. She had known full well the man's name, but could not resist testing Raoul's feelings for her friend. So many little things that Meg had said were now taking on new meaning.

"Actually, Meg has told me quite a bit about him. It seems he reminds her a bit of Erik."

Raoul's eyes flashed. "Meg has a very poor opinion of your husband then."

Christine smiled. "Actually, Meg and Erik are quite fond of one another."

Raoul's face darkened, a tone of sarcasm coloring his words that Christine had not known him capable of. "Well isn't that just lovely for them! With Meg's appreciation for scoundrels, I am certain they would have had a grand romance if you hadn't gotten to him first."

She gasped in astonishment. "My God! I do not think I have ever seen you seethe with jealousy before!"

He expelled a frustrated breath. "I am _not _seething."

She paused at that and studied him a moment more. "I notice that you didn't say that you are not jealous. You _are_ in love with Meg, aren't you?"

Raoul's anger ebbed away and he sighed as he sank back to the sofa again. His next words were spoken softly with an air of longing about them. "Yes. I am."

Christine nodded absently. "She told me you had found someone. But she did not tell me it was her."

Raoul looked to her in speculation. "Does it bother you?"

"I...don't know. I confess that it did bother me to realize you had come chasing her across France and into England. But I am not certain why. I have no romantic claim on you, nor do I want one again. I want you to be happy. I want Meg to be happy."

Raoul cast his eyes downward, sitting a moment in silence. "You…said she didn't tell you…about my feelings for her?"

Christine could see the hurt on his face as clearly as she could hear it in his voice. "No. She did not."

He sighed raggedly again, raking a hand through his hair. "She doesn't believe me, Christine. She thinks I am still in love with you. And I fear my being here now has only made it worse."

Christine needed to know. "_Are_ you still in love with me?"

Raoul met her eyes. "I...do still love you, Christine. But it has changed." And as he said this, he realized it was the truth. Though he still felt a sad ache in his heart for his lost love, he could find no trace of the passionate feelings he had once thought himself to possess for her. Lacking them now, he could not help wonder if he had ever really had them at all. "Seeing you again has made me realize how little we really knew one another as adults. I loved Little Lotte, and she was gone long before we ever met again."

Christine smiled a little, shaking her head. "Not so very long before then, Raoul."

"I would have married you, you know? And gone on thinking everything was wonderful."

"I would have made you miserable."

He smiled sadly. "Meg makes me happy, Christine. She makes me laugh, and she makes me feel…" _All the passion that I no longer feel for you. _His cheeks turned crimson as he bit off his words self-consciously. It would not do to confess such intimate thoughts to Christine. Instead he chose far simpler, and far more meaningful words. "I love her, more than I ever imagined possible. I think I have even come to understand your Erik's murderous jealousy." A humorless laugh escaped him before he turned pleading eyes to Christine. "How do I make her believe that the past is truly behind me?"

Christine smiled in sympathy. "By loving her, Raoul, no matter how impossible it may seem. She will not always make it easy, of course. I find myself wanting to throttle Erik sometimes for his stubbornness." Her hand drifted over her belly. "But I guarantee the rewards are worth the effort."

* * *

**A/N:** Once again, I want to thank my little group of faithful reviewers for the continued words of kindness. When I pour the words out onto the page, I'm writing in a vacuum…only hearing what's in my head and not really sure how it's going to end up sounding. So it's always nice to click on a review and get feedback. Thanks. 


	26. Feels Like Not Enough

**Feels Like Not Enough**

Feeling very tired from the day's events, Christine had wanted nothing more than to rest awhile, but still needing to speak with Erik, she had kindly asked Raoul to fetch her husband for her.

Raoul stared at her in disbelief. "You _are_ jesting?"

"You are both grown men, Raoul. I trust you can handle the task of informing my husband that I wish to see him."

"Yes,but I would rather not be handled by your husband when I do."

Christine raised a brow at his slightly off-color response. "My, my...Meg does seem to have had quite an influence on your tongue."

Raoul raised his own brow to match hers. "You are one to talk, Madame."

Christine grinned at him, and for a brief moment they were children again. Then Raoul sighed. "Very well,but I will not be held responsible if he tries to strangle me again."

Christine rolled her eyes. "Just go."

Raoul stepped out of the parlor, glancing around. Just where was he supposed to find Erik?

"Are you looking for someone, Vicomte?"

Madame Giry's soft voice from behind him had Raoul nearly jumping out of his skin.

_How does she always manage to be lurking about? She is worse than Erik._

"Christine has asked me to find her husband. She wishes to speak with him."

Antoinette sighed. "He is likely still in the garden with Meg. If you would like, I can go and tell him."

Raoul's expression darkened at the thought of Meg alone with that villain. "No. I will go."

Antoinette pointed him towards the garden and he saw them the moment he cleared the house. They were sitting side by side on a bench, talking softly. As if sensing his presence, Erik's head came up and he stood immediately. Raoul watched darkly as Meg gently grabbed Erik's hand to still him. His own fists clenched as he closed the distance between them.

Through his teeth, Raoul delivered Christine's message. "Madame Rousseau wishes to speak with her husband."

Erik glowered at him, but said nothing, moving quickly past him and back to the house, and Raoul was left looking down into Meg's red rimmed eyes.

"Meg..."

She stood quickly. "No. Not now, Raoul." She tried to walk away, but he stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm.

"Please, Meg. We must talk."

"Not now." She stubbornly repeated, shrugging him off as she moved again towards the house.

"I love you."

Her step faltered a moment, and she turned on him with her blue eyes flashing. "Only words, Raoul. What words did you give Christine?"

Raoul frowned, feeling the sting of her words acutely. "Sit and talk with me, Meg. I'll tell you everything."

Meg turned away again, once more denying him. "No. I cannot hear it now."

"When will you hear it, then?" He called after her, "Meg?"

But she kept walking, leaving him alone in the garden.

Raoul sank onto the bench Meg had only just vacated, feeling his heart beginning to break once again.

_I hope Christine has better luck with Erik._

xXx

Erik paced the living room, where Christine still sat upon the sofa, hands folded over her abdomen. She watched her husband warily, waiting for some reaction from him. He had knelt before her when he'd first entered the room and asked in concern if she was well. She'd smiled and assured him that she was only tired, and then she had told him, "Erik...it is settled between Raoul and I."

And so the silent pacing had begun. After another moment, he finally crouched before her again, his expression remained dark. "What do you mean by settled?"

She cupped his face with her hand. "I mean that I love you, angel. Raoul knows everything...I told him of all my feelings for you and finally apologized for my misuse of his affections. We have laid our past to rest."

Erik studied his wife. "And your jealousy?"

Christine grimaced, dropping her hand to her lap. "Childishness, Erik. I think I was more hurt that Meg had not told me how close she and Raoul have become."

Erik sensed no falsehood in that, and he traced his own gentle fingers over her cheek. "I am not certain I approve of them."

She smiled at him. "It is not your place to approve, my love. Nor mine for that matter. But you must promise to try and tolerate Raoul's presence here, Erik."

His eyes darkened. "Are you certain you can trust him? He could easily go back to Paris and tell the authorities where to find me."

She sighed. "We have to trust him, love. I do not think he would knowingly do anything to hurt me...or Meg, now."

"Mm. Except he has hurt Meg, mon ange."

Christine grew thoughtful. "I wonder if she has not hurt him, as well."

Erik seemed to contemplate this a moment. "He is a delicate little fop, isn't he?"

"Erik...! You are impossible."

He grinned. "But you love me for it." And he captured her lips in a sensual kiss.

xXx

Raoul was still in the garden when Erik stepped back outside. He had helped Christine upstairs, and she'd insisted he extend a formal dinner invitation to the Vicomte. Erik had thought the boy's continued presence in their house to be rather obvious considering his only way back to town would be for Erik either to drive him or lend him a horse. And Erik was in the mood to do neither.

The fop did look rather pathetic sitting there staring down to the water. Erik knew that Meg had gone to her room a while ago, and that Raoul looked so defeated was enough to prove that their last conversation had not gone nearly as well as Erik and Christine's.

"Brooding will not bring her back to you, boy."

Raoul glared up at the man. "I will not take advice from the likes of you!"

Erik chuckled. "The likes of me? I am a happily married man, Vicomte."

Raoul stood. "Let us understand one another, Monsieur. I do not like you. I do not trust you. And I will never comprehend what Christine sees in you. But I will endeavor to keep my disdain for you to myself for her sake. I will not, however, be continually made a fool of by you."

Erik laughed again. "I will refrain from commenting on your foolishness. But you can rest assured that I understand your feelings perfectly, and we are of similar mind on the subject. Now, I recommend that you remove yourself from my garden and make yourself presentable, as my wife has insisted on your presence for dinner. Your bag is on the front drive. Apparently, your cabbie was nice enough to leave it before he left you to your fate."

With that, Erik disappeared back into the house, leaving Raoul alone to his brooding once more.

xXx

Meg had retreated upstairs to her bedroom in what her mother would surely call childish behavior. She simply had not been able to face talking with Raoul while her own emotions were so precarious. And she desperately needed to talk to Christine, to explain her feelings for Raoul and apologize for causing this mess.

Meg was ashamed to admit that her first thoughts at seeing him here had been of anger and betrayal. She had immediately assumed the worst; that Raoul had somehow known Meg would eventually lead him to Christine. The idea that he might have played her for a fool had her feeling sick and wondering how she could have allowed such a thing.

But it seemed, at least, that Raoul had not come here _deliberately_ to see Christine, though his motives did nothing to ease her distress. She had seen the look upon his face when he'd gazed on Christine again, confirming all her suspicions that Raoul was not yet over his former fiancée. Whatever had been discussed between the two could hardly have changed that.

Meg was jarred out of her own musings by the light tapping at her door and Christine's soft voice.

"Meg? May I come in?"

Impatiently swiping away her stray tears, Meg stood from the bed, attempting to calm herself. "Yes."

Christine entered hesitantly and sat rather gracelessly in the corner chair. She gave a pointed look to Meg. "Is there something you neglected to mention to me, my friend?"

Meg released a shaky breath as her tears once again began to fall. She slipped to her knees in front of Christine. "Oh Christine. I am so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?"

Christine smiled softly, laying a hand on her friend's shoulder. "There is nothing to forgive, Meg. I wanted Raoul to move on with his life and be happy. It seems somehow right that it should be with you."

Meg shook her head stubbornly. "We have not...it has been..." Giving up on tact, Meg blurted out the thought foremost on her mind. "I know he still loves you."

Christine arched a single brow. "Yet it is _you_ he came chasing after in a fit of jealousy."

Meg glanced away. "Raoul…does not approve of my friendship with Jean."

Christine laughed a little, "And why is that, do you suppose?"

Meg squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and whispered raggedly. "I want to believe that he loves me, Christine. You have no idea how much I want to...but I saw how he looked at you earlier."

Christine sighed. "And_ I_ saw how he looked at _you_. If Raoul and I have some lingering tenderness between us, it is only the remnant of what might have been. I used him very poorly, and we both needed to make peace with the past."

Meg eyed her friend warily. "Have you?"

Christine answered without hesitation. "Yes...and I believe he _does_ love you, Meg. I have certainly never before seen him in quite such...disarray. He seemed always to be so steady and proper when we were together."

Meg frowned. "Is it meant to ease my mind that I've made a mess of him?"

Christine stifled her laughter. "I only mean to make you realize that _I _never had quite this effect on him. I think he was likely too preoccupied with being noble and honorable and coming to my rescue."

Meg smiled a little at that. "He still does manage noble and honorable very well."

Christine stroked one hand over her friend's hair. "Do you love him, Meg?"

Wide blue eyes met Christine's sympathetic gaze. Meg had not yet even confessed her feelings to Raoul, yet it seemed right that she should tell Christine first. She closed her eyes and drew a breath. "Yes. I do. I love him so very dearly."

When she opened her eyes, it was to see Christine smiling softly once again. "Perhaps you should talk to Raoul."

Meg looked away again. "Oh Christine, I feel as though there is a chasm between us that can never be crossed. Even if we should both be able to move on from the past…what future can we really have? I am just a lowly little ballet rat, and his reputation has already suffered enough."

Christine grimaced. "Because of me."

Meg shook her head sadly. "I fear I am far less suited to be a vicomtess than you were, Christine. What hope does that leave us?"

Christine stubbornly persisted. "Raoul does not care for such things, Meg. And I think you would do well as his wife, if you are willing to give up the theater."

Meg sighed. "I would give it up without hesitation, but that will not make my blood any bluer or my manners any meeker."

Christine laughed in earnest. "Thank God for that, Meg. The last thing the Paris aristocracy needs is another blue blooded mouse."

Meg's eyes suddenly danced with a hint of their usual spirited glimmer. "Do you suppose they could tolerate a rat?"

Christine had laughed again, and the two friends spent quite sometime speaking of all that had been left unsaid.

* * *

**A/N:** The usual thanks to the usual suspects... To whatanoddgirl (by the way, I love that pen name) I am glad you are loving this. Nice to hear from you again. Don't worry, you won't have to wait much longer... 


	27. To Eat

**To Eat**

Dinner at the Rousseau house was a strange event indeed. In all of his wildest imaginings, Raoul de Chagny had never thought to be sitting across from the Phantom of the Opera enjoying roasted chicken and wine. The man had tried to murder him three times now…_or was it four?_…and if Raoul tended to obsess just a bit over that fact, he figured it was as good an obsession as any.

Christine sat across from Meg, who continued to studiously ignore the vicomte. Madame Giry sat next to her daughter and just to Raoul's left, conveniently impeding any chance to quietly catch Meg's attention. Christine was the only one even attempting conversation with him, and that was a painful task under Erik's intense glare.

Raoul wanted only to get Meg alone so they could finally talk. He had felt hopeful as he'd watched her descend the stairs, smiling and laughing with Christine about something or other. But the moment Meg had met his eyes; her smile had fallen away once again.

"Raoul...I have not thought to ask you where you are staying in town. Do you have a room?"

Shaking himself from his contemplation, Raoul colored slightly at Christine's question. "I...came straight here before securing a room. But I am certain I will have no difficulty doing so when I return to town." His color deepened. "That is, if I might ask for the loan of a horse to carry me there."

Christine frowned and Erik chuckled in amusement...an amusement that vanished with the next words out of his wife's mouth. "You are welcome to stay with us this evening. Is he not, Erik?" The stern look on her face challenged her husband to refuse her.

"Christine…!" His own expression darkened dangerously.

Raoul cleared his throat. "A kind offer, Christine, but the horse will suffice..."

Christine and Erik continued to glare at one another a moment more before he growled, "You'll not be touching my horses, _Vicomte_."

With that, Erik stood and left the table. Christine sighed and turned to Raoul with a too bright smile. "There, that is settled. I will have Katie ready a room for you."

And thus, dinner was at an end and Raoul was staying the night. He made a mental note to be certain to lock his door and bolt his windows so he might have the pleasure of waking up in the morning.

Meg excused herself from the table almost immediately, and Raoul was quick to follow. He was determined that this hellish day should have some benefit to it, and he refused to be turned away again.

Meg headed outside to the terrace for air, knowing very well that Raoul was following.

"Meg, please..."

Raoul's hand on her arm stopped her, and she turned to him slowly. There was a purpose in his clear blue eyes that she had never before seen. She had expected him to demand, in his gentlemanly way of course, the conversation she had been avoiding all afternoon. She had not expected to be pulled into his arms on a groan of frustration and kissed senseless.

There was nothing restrained or proper in his possession of her mouth; it was a torment of passion and need and Meg melted helplessly into him. Their surroundings faded into oblivion and all that existed were the exquisite sensations sparking between them.

Denied the incredible feeling of having her in his arms for too long, Raoul was so very tempted to abandon himself completely to the wild excitement she inspired in him. But there were words he needed to say to her, and words he longed to hear. Slowly, reluctantly, he broke their kiss and set her carefully away from him, dragging in a calming breath.

Meg's cheeks were flushed and her breathing uneven. She touched her trembling fingers to her lips as she stared dazedly into his eyes. "What...?"

Raoul smiled softly, cupping her beautiful face in his hands. "Words seem always to be between us, sweet Meg...what we say, what we will not say." He traced a thumb lovingly across her lower lip. "If my words can never be enough, then I will have to find other ways of convincing you how deeply in love with you I am. How my heart races when you are near me. How my soul aches for your smile…your touch. How I cannot bear the thought of you with any other. How I long to hear you tell me that I am not alone in this…"

His hoarsely whispered words were suddenly halted by Meg's lips pressing to his, and Raoul could taste the salt of her tears. Before he could deepen the contact, she pulled back just enough to whisper against his mouth, "You are not alone, my love."

Then she was in his arms once again, kissing him with all the emotion she had been fighting for months. Raoul wrapped her in his arms, pulling her body closer. The sense of rightness engulfed him and his heart nearly burst with happiness. He wanted nothing more than to sweep her into his arms and carry her to some private corner of the world. But despite some of his recent actions, he was still a gentleman, and there was one matter left to be settled.

Pulling away slightly, Raoul smiled down at Meg, memorizing every delicate curve of her face in the moonlight so he could keep this moment forever. "Marry me, Meg? Say that you'll be my wife."

For a moment her face lit with such a happy smile, then it faded and her eyes grew sad. "No. No, Raoul, I cannot."

His own smile disappeared as his heart constricted once again. "But why? You love me?"

Meg sighed, finished with denying her own heart. "Yes. I love you so very much. But…I am only a ballet rat and you are a vicomte. We're from two different worlds."

Raoul's heart lurched. They had only just expelled Christine's ghost and already Meg had thrown up another obstacle between them. But this one, at least, he had been prepared for.

"_You_ are my world, Meg. I care nothing for my title. I will gladly give it up to be with you...to dedicate my life to your happiness. You need not even give up your career if you do not wish to."

Confusion clouded her eyes a moment. "My career? Raoul, do you think I would choose the stage over you? I want nothing more than to be your wife…but not at the sacrifice of your reputation. Or your family."

He shook his head in frustration. "So you will sacrifice _our_ family…the one we might make together? No, Meg…this I will never allow. I love you! My future is yours. If you will not have me now, then I will ask you again tomorrow, and every day after for the rest of my life until you say you will. Please, my love, say you will?"

_How could she refuse him that impassioned plea?_ She could not.

Smiling up at him with love in her eyes, Meg gave him her heart completely. "Yes. Yes…I will."

xXx

Inside the house, Christine approached the music room with trepidation as the melodious chords of the piano grew steadily in ardent crescendo. She sighed, supposing she should be grateful Erik was taking out his displeasure on the piano. His moods were still unpredictable at times, but he had come so far in these past months.

She didn't bother knocking, as she knew he was lost to the music, but quietly turned the knob and slipped inside. She watched him as he played, fully admiring the passion that flowed into the notes, and a little smile tilted her lips. Her husband entered into every endeavor with that same passion, and she had benefited from it most enjoyably.

When the last echoes of the melody finally faded from the room, Erik straightened at the piano.

"I thought you would be seeing to our guests, Christine."

Christine sighed. "Are you very upset with me for inviting Raoul to stay?"

Erik swung around on the bench to face her, his expression unreadable. "_Why_ would you imagine me to be upset that your former fiancée is spending the night in_ my_ house?"

"There is really no need for such sarcasm, Erik."

His eyes narrowed. "It keeps me from more destructive ventures."

Christine stepped forward and rested her palm against his cheek. "I am sorry, angel. I only thought that we should not send him away before he and Meg have reached some understanding."

Erik reached up and took Christine's hand in his, an amused grin suddenly playing around the edge of his lips as he gazed up at her. "Are you playing at matchmaker now, mon ange?"

She smiled. "Merely creating opportunity." She bent to press a brief kiss to his mouth. "It is only one night, my love. I promise I will make it up to you."

Erik sighed, reaching out to tangle his fingers in her loose silken curls. The swell of their child pressed between them. "Your love is all the promise I need, Christine."

xXx

Meg and Raoul sat side by side on the terrace. He held her firmly in the circle of his arms, stroking a hand absently up and down her shoulder. She leaned against him, content to listen to the steady rhythm of his heart.

"Tell me again, sweet Meg. I feel as if I have waited a lifetime for this moment."

She smiled. "I love you, Raoul."

"_And…?"_

"I will marry you."

"Tomorrow?"

Meg drew back from him in surprise. "Raoul!"

"You do not still doubt my feelings?"

She sighed. "How can I after everything that has happened today? Your coming here…seeing Christine again…and yet, you still seem to want me."

Raoul raised a brow. "Seem to? If I have not done an adequate job of proving how very much I want you, I will have to continue in my attempts."

Meg's laughter was quickly smothered by Raoul's mouth over hers. His kiss certainly proved his desire for her, and they both strained to get closer to one another. On a harsh groan, Raoul pulled slightly away from her, his face pressed against her throat. When he spoke , his voice was thick with desire. "Say that you will marry me soon, Meg, or I think I will go mad with wanting you."

Meg shuddered at the feel of his breath on her skin. "Oh Raoul…I would love nothing more than to marry you here and now…but I will not give your parents further reason to dislike me."

He lifted his face then, and his eyes darkened with determination. "They will not stop us Meg, no matter their opinion. And my mother, at least, wishes to know you better."

"Which is why we cannot rush this, Raoul."

He sighed in defeat. "I know you're right. But I find myself wishing we could think only of one another."

Meg drew a shaky breath. She wished that as well, and being pressed against him in such a way had her mind racing with wicked thoughts. She blushed furiously. "Perhaps…we could…if you wish…that is…if we are to be married…"

Raoul shook his head as he realized her meaning. "You are so much a temptation to me, sweet Meg...but we will wait until we are married, else you may no longer feel the need to make an honest man of me."

She gasped. "I…?"

Raoul pressed another quick kiss to her lips. "Yes, you, my love. Only you." His eyes softened on hers as he continued. "Seeing Christine again has only made me more certain of my love for you. Yes…she will always remain very dear to me, as my first love…a kind of ideal, really. But what you and I have found…is as vital to me as breathing. When I thought I had lost you…" His eyes closed as he broke off, his arms reflexively tightening around Meg.

She smiled in wonder. "I still cannot believe you chased me to England."

"What else was I to do? I'd thought…when I heard that Ranier had traveled with you…"

Meg shook her head. "I cannot imagine what Jean thought to gain by such a thing?"

His eyes darkened dangerously. "Can you not? The bastard was, no doubt, hoping to seduce you…while I remained in Paris thinking you had deserted me for him."

She traced a gentle hand across his jaw, smiling up at him. "But you did not remain in Paris. And now Jean has been the means of finally bringing us together."

Raoul narrowed his eyes. "That will not stop me from strangling him when next I see him."

Meg smile turned a little wicked and she raised a brow. "There are far better ways of dealing with Jean, my love. But for the moment..." She reached up and drew her fiancée closer. "Let us not think of him."

And for quite some time, they thought only of one another.

* * *

**A/N:** Well...was it good for you? We still have a little ways to go with the story...so stay tuned. 


	28. For Me

**For Me**

Quite some time had passed before either couple reemerged from their own magical little worlds, but when they did it was to celebrate the news of Raoul and Meg's engagement. Christine embraced her friend with happy tears, admitting to being hopelessly emotional these days to begin with. Meg was at once passed into the arms of her mother, who pulled her daughter slightly away from the little group. Raoul watched the exchange with some trepidation, even as Christine clasped his hands in her own and congratulated her dear friend

Antoinette Giry was not surprised by her daughter's engagement to le Vicomte; indeed, she had been expecting just such an occurrence for quite some time. But for so long, her little Meg had been hers alone, and their dreams had been shared. The stage…the theater…the dance.

She spoke quietly. "Meg, child, I must ask…are you very certain of your decision in this?"

Meg met her mother's probing gaze without hesitation, a soft smile curving her lips. "Yes, Maman, I am. I know it is not quite what you had imagined for me…"

Antoinette nodded with a misty smile, her usual stern demeanor melting away as she gazed at her daughter with love. "My child, your engagement to le Vicomte is far beyond any imagining I was capable of. I have only ever wanted your happiness, and it has been clear to me for some time now that he makes you so. I…I am so very proud of the woman you have become…"

"Oh, Maman…I am the woman _you_ made me to be." Meg was instantly in her mother's arms, happy tears falling from both of their eyes, secure in the knowledge that this bond between them would never be altered.

Raoul approached the two with a nervous smile, clearing his throat. "Madame Giry, you and I have spoken a little in the past concerning my intentions towards your daughter, and you must know that I hold your opinion in the highest regard. I love Meg very much, and it would make me very happy indeed to know that we have your blessing."

Antoinette composed herself gracefully and gave him a short nod. "You have it, Monsieur le Vicomte."

He smiled fully and bent to place a kiss against Madame Giry's cheek. "I thank you Madame."

Having this serious business settled, Christine and Madame Giry had pulled Meg away to sit and talk of weddings for a while. Raoul began to follow, but was stopped short by Erik, who simply pushed a glass of brandy into his hand and grunted. "Hurt her and I'll hang you."

Despite his intrinsic dislike of the man, Raoul had to admit to a certain fascination with him. And watching him with Christine...well, it had always been obvious they shared some otherworldly connection that Raoul could never have hoped to sever. He was grateful now for seeing them together like this, as it finally allowed him to close the door on that part of his life.

His eyes drifted over to Meg and he smiled. _One door closed and another open._

Raoul found himself impatient to step over the threshold. As much as he wanted to find a vicar tomorrow and elope, he knew that Meg was right in her thinking that they should wait. Still, he couldn't help fearing that the longer their engagement was drawn out; the more chances she would have to change her mind.

Raoul's smile turned slightly sardonic. _She is not Christine._ But still, Raoul was well aware that his father, at least, would not make life pleasant for Meg. And Jean Ranier would likely not make life pleasant for Raoul. Although he imagined there would be a great deal of pleasure in telling the cad that Meg was now officially spoken for.

Retiring to his bedroom alone that evening had been a difficult task. Raoul hadn't wanted the evening to end, nor had he wanted to be parted from Meg. Even more difficult was returning to town in the morning, but he knew his presence was wearing on Erik's patience, and frankly, Raoul really didn't wish to spend any more time in the man's company than necessary.

He had decided that he would not leave England without his fiancée, and Meg, of course, would not be leaving until Christine's baby was born, so he had taken a room at the Gate Inn. He busied himself with exploring the shipping yards that his family had interest in and seeking out other possible investments. 

Several more evenings were passed at the Rousseau House without bloodshed, and Raoul had even found some strange truce with Erik. Granted it consisted of them both determinedly ignoring one another as much as possible, but it worked well enough for them.

He saw Meg every day, and they spoke often of their hopes and fears. As they grew closer, it became increasingly difficult for both of them to refrain from acting on their more passionate feelings, but Raoul was determined that they should wait until they were properly married, for Meg's sake, if not his own. Her apprehension about how well she would be received as his wife was great enough without adding to it the worry that she might be seen as a fallen woman. Their wedding night would be all the more beautiful for them both having waited.

Raoul had written to his parents soon after arriving in England to inform them of his engagement. The letter had been very direct and unapologetic. They were in love. They would be married. If he was disowned, then so be it.

A response had come to the inn at the beginning of Raoul's fourth week in Dover. His mother's elegant hand had offered her congratulations and thankfulness that Raoul had not eloped, as she was looking forward to planning a wedding. She had promised to do her best to ensure his father would be duly soothed by Raoul's return to Paris.

Soon on the heels of that encouraging news, Christine and Erik's child had made her appearance into the world.

xXx

The hour had been late when Christine's labor had begun in earnest. She had been complaining of an aching back all day, and even Erik's skilled hands had not been able to ease her discomfort. As the night had grown darker, Christine had been unable to rest adequately and she'd begun fidgeting; laying awhile, sitting, pacing…and generally making Erik very nervous. She'd been in mid-stride on yet another lap around their bedchamber when she'd stopped suddenly with a gasp, one hand flying to her belly. Erik had been at her side in an instant.

"Christine…are you well?"

She drew in a shaky breath. "Y-yes…I…" Then she'd gasped again. "Or perhaps not."

Erik laid a hand over hers. "The child?"

Christine closed her eyes, thinking better of voicing a biting response to the rather obvious question. "I…think it may be time, Erik."

A flash of panic showed clearly in his eyes. "You think? Do you not know?"

She glared at him in annoyance then. "I have never done this before, but if you would prefer we wait until I am certain…" Her words died on another pained gasp, and Erik felt the contraction against his hand.

"I am going to wake Antoinette…"

Christine hissed out a breath. "I think that would be best."

Minutes later, Madame Giry, Meg, and Katie were all hovering around and taking charge. Seeking to give Erik's tension a purpose, Antoinette had quickly sent him to town to fetch the doctor. He'd ridden hard and had nearly dragged the man from his bed, so wrought with fear and helplessness that he was perilously close to slipping into madness again. Doctor Winston had years of experience dealing with men in much the same state and calmly ignored Monsieur Rousseau's outbursts.

The night stretched on and Christine's pains grew more intense. Erik refused to leave her side, offering whatever comfort he could…his own heart twisting violently at the knowledge that _he_ had done this to her. His angel suffered because of _him_, and he was truly powerless to ease her burden. All he could do was sing to her, as Christine had begged him to.

The earliest rays of the morning sun had long since kissed the horizon when the first lusty cries of a newborn babe finally filled the air. Christine, exhausted but exhilarated, had reached out for her child. Erik, who been focused solely on Christine, found he could not bring himself to look at the baby just yet. Instead, he watched Christine's face, and saw the most beautiful expression of love in his wife's eyes as she gazed on their daughter for the first time.

"Oh…Erik…" Her voice was a reverent whisper. "She is so beautiful."

Only then did Erik look down to see that their child was, indeed, beautiful. Her face was flawless, if a bit red and wrinkled, and a little crown of dark curls already adorned the top of her head. She was truly a heavenly creature…just as her mother was.

He could barely find his voice. "Exquisite." He pressed his lips to Christine's cheek, unable to stop the tears that thickened his voice. "My love…my angel…thank you…"

Meg stood watching the new little family through her own happy tears. Christine was smiling and holding her precious bundle close, and she had never looked more beautiful, even in her exhaustion. Erik sat on the bed, holding his wife and daughter in his arms, looking...well...stunned was perhaps the most fitting description. Almost as though he couldn't quite believe himself to be there.

Thankfully none of the couple's darkest fears had come to pass on this day. Only a most joyful blessing. Angelique Christine Rousseau, as the child was quickly named, was certainly a tiny vision to behold, born of a love quite unlike any other.

* * *

**A/N:** Fluff...fluff and more fluff... Thanks for the reviews...feedback is always a wonderful thing. Just as you all get that gleeful little tingle when you see a chapter update, I get one when I see a review. But I'm not a review junkie..._really...I'm not_... 


	29. They'll Never Do

**They'll Never Do**

Having tended to every little medical detail at the Rousseau house, including answering the endless questions posed to him by the anxious new father, Doctor Winston had finally returned to town. He had granted the new little family the favor of delivering a note to the Gate Inn for the Vicomte de Chagny and then returned home to engage in some much needed sleep.

Upon receiving the note from the innkeeper, Raoul had been overwhelmed by a great sense of joy and relief at the happy news, as he had been apprehensive over the entire matter. He had not failed to notice the underlying tension in the air whenever the child had been discussed, and could not begin to imagine the fears that both Christine and her husband were facing. Yet he_ had_ understood that no one would have been safe from Erik's grief induced rage had anything happened to Christine or the child.

Raoul waited until late into the afternoon before calling on the new parents, a tiny plush bunny in his grasp. He'd been more than a little uncertain of the proper protocol for such things, and could not help feel that he was the last person who should be intruding into the moment.

Arriving at the house, Raoul was greeted at the door by a beaming Meg who kissed him soundly, ushered him inside, and assured him that he was welcome. Full of happy energy, she dragged him upstairs to meet Angelique, and Raoul was instantly humbled by the tiny babe whose serious blue-green eyes stared up at him from the protective cradle of Christine's arms. All the pain of the past seemed unimportant in the presence of such a miracle.

Raoul gazed at the child in awe. "Christine…she is the very definition of perfection."

Christine beamed at him. "She is, is she not?"

Raoul looked to Erik then, nodding in respect. "You have my sincerest congratulations…Erik."

Erik drew a deep breath and even managed a very slight smile. "Thank you, Vicomte." And for the first time, the title was uttered without disdain.

It was only as Raoul later walked outside alone that a strange mix of happiness and melancholy had overtaken him. He felt quite happy for Christine, certainly, but as the man who had once been engaged to her, he still found it somewhat difficult to see her so thoroughly and completely belonging to another. The little tingle of jealousy he had experienced at first seeing her again several weeks ago had returned. _That might have been my daughter, had things been different._

The very thought had him feeling immense guilt. It was not that he still wanted Christine for himself, but more a matter of longing for what she now had without him.

_How different our lives might have been had she not found her way back to her angel._

Raoul briefly let his mind wander along the road not taken. He and Christine could well have been ensconced at the de Chagny estate by now, but happy or miserable he could not say. Certainly Erik would have remained a miserable creature condemned to hell. And Meg...Raoul grimaced at the realization that she would have certainly succumbed to Ranier. And Raoul would never have known the mindless passion she inspired in him. Nor the sweet laughter. He smiled, thinking now of the glow on her face as she'd gazed at little Angelique. One day, God willing, she would look at_ their_ child in such a way.

It was in the midst of these thoughts that Meg found him in the garden. Her brows drew together in concern, even as she reached for his hand. "Tell me what you are thinking?"

Raoul smiled slowly, answering her in honesty. "I am thinking how very much I am looking forward to starting our own family, my love."

She blushed. "We had best make it through the wedding first, Raoul."

His grin turned wicked. "We could still elope."

She laughing scolded him. "You, sir, are supposed to be a gentleman."

He drew her into his arms. "For you, sweet Meg, I am sorely tempted to be a scoundrel."

xXx

Much later, as Raoul and Meg sat together talking quietly of the day's events, Erik made his way downstairs and into the parlor. Still feeling slightly dazed, he ignored the couple and poured himself a glass of brandy. Christine had finally succumbed to her exhaustion and fallen to sleep, their daughter securely tucked into the bassinet beside the bed.

He could scarcely believe that he'd had any part in making the beautiful life that Christine had struggled to bring into the world. For so many months, he had dreaded this day for fear of all that might go wrong, and now…_now_ he rejoiced in it. _His wife. His child_. And they were both healthy and beautiful and somehow untouched by his darkness.

"Erik, is Christine finally resting?"

He turned at Meg's question, his eyes quickly taking in the way she sat so close to the boy, their hands entwined. How strange that Fate should have brought them all to this place, this moment of perfect contentment, after all that had passed before.

Pushing aside his musings, he answered Meg. "Mmm…the adrenaline that had been sustaining her finally gave way to exhaustion. Angelique is also sleeping peacefully."

Meg nodded, smiling at the way Erik's face seemed to soften on his daughter's name. "You should rest as well, Erik. You'll likely be getting very little in the future."

His lips turned ever so slightly upwards. "It is fortunate that I rarely sleep."

"At least let me tell Katie to prepare a meal for you. You have not eaten all day."

Erik sighed, Meg was certainly her mother's daughter at times, fearless and tender. He was quite fond of her, really. "I can see to my own meal, Meg. I will leave you and your fiancée to continue enjoying your evening" As he turned to leave, Erik slanted a warning look at Raoul. "But you had best not enjoy yourself too much, Vicomte."

Raoul scowled as Erik disappeared from the room. "I hate that man."

Meg suppressed a laugh. "I am certain he feels the same, my love."

Settling back into a comfortable embrace, Raoul absentmindedly twined his fingers through Meg's loose curls. "At least we have reached a mutual understanding on it. Though I confess he is a great deal more tolerable when he isn't trying to kill me."

Turning her head in surprise at his jest, Meg smiled a bit tremulously. "I am glad you are able to tolerate him, Raoul. You've no idea how very difficult it has been these last months to keep all of this from you."

"We are past that now, sweet Meg. There will be no more secrets between us." Raoul pressed a tender kiss to her lips, and they returned to the task of enjoying their evening.

xXx

For Meg, leaving Dover was bittersweet. She was more eager than she could say to begin her life with Raoul in earnest, but saying goodbye to Christine again was horribly difficult; more so because both women knew it would be quite sometime before they would see one another again. So much would be changed at their next meeting. Meg was returning to Paris to face the scrutiny of Raoul's parents and friends, not a happy task to look forward to. She had been tempted more than once to agree to his suggestion that they elope. At least she might have had Christine at her wedding, an impossibility as it stood now...for so many reasons.

But the friends promised to never be out of touch for long, and everyone agreed that Raoul's appearance in Dover had at least made the possibility of future visits to England less complicated. Erik and Raoul would never be friends, of course, but their wives would never be anything less...and men must make these sacrifices for the women they love.

The return trip to Paris was a far more enjoyable experience for both Meg and Raoul, as the former hadn't the burden of guilt and the latter hadn't the despair of jealousy weighing on them. And certainly Madame Giry had welcomed the company of a far more pleasant traveling companion.

As life would dictate, the brief fairytale happiness of the previous weeks could not be expected to last forever. Reality eagerly met the couple at the Paris station, along with the Comte and Comtess de Chagny.

* * *

**A/N:** Ah, home sweet home... 


	30. Broken Sentences of You

**Broken Sentences Of You**

To say that the ensuing coach ride was wrought with tension would have been a vast understatement. The Comtess had done her best to be pleasant, but Comte de Chagny had silently studied Meg and her mother with evident disapproval. He had uttered only a few terse words of greeting at the station before offering--or rather demanding--to escort the Girys to their home.

Raoul had taken Meg's hand reassuringly and offered an encouraging smile. "Do not worry, my love. Nothing will part us now." Meg tried to return his smile, but she feared the outcome of this all would only cause more pain to Raoul.

Comtess de Chagny had endeavored to make small talk and extended a dinner invitation to both ladies for the following evening. Meg thought Raoul's mother seemed genuine enough in her welcome, but it did little to ease the discomfort she felt under the Comte's watchful assessment.

Upon being safely deposited at the Marseille House, Meg had fallen into her mother's arms lamenting over the Comte's obvious dislike of her.

Antoinette gently admonished her daughter. "My child, you knew entering into this engagement would not be an easy task. I did not raise you to fall apart under the slightest scrutiny. If you expect to be a vicomtess, you will need a thicker skin than this."

"But I will not be a vicomtess if Raoul is disowned! I cannot let him suffer for me."

Antoinette chuckled. "He does not seem to suffer much in your company, Meg. And I feel fairly certain that Comtess de Chagny will not allow her only son to be disowned. Now…you will dry your tears and conduct yourself with confidence. Show them no weakness; trust in yourself and trust in your love…and all will be well."

Meg took this advice to heart, and determined that she would not bow to her fears again. Raoul was worth fighting for, and fight she would.

xXx

While Meg's mother had offered comfort and sage advice, Raoul's father was far less accommodating. As the coach pulled away from the boarding house, the Comte grunted in disgust. "You mean to go through with this, then? Despite my feelings on the matter."

Raoul met his father's eyes unflinchingly. "Yes. I am in love with Meg, and she is in love with me. Nothing you can say or do will alter my coarse."

Philippe scoffed. "How will you support the girl if I should take away your means? You hardly have any skills."

Elise could take no more of such talk, and angrily rebuked her husband. "Enough Philippe! Can you not see that our son will not be intimidated by your threats? He will marry her regardless of your approval. And I, for one, do not wish to be alienated from our son…or our future grandchildren."

Philippe visibly paled at this thought. "Grand…? The girl is not already…?"

Raoul scowled and cut off his father's words. "I will not even dignify that with an answer."

Philippe crossed his arms, and father and son sat staring at one another in silence for long moments, neither willing to be the first to back down. Despite his unhappiness in Raoul's choice, the Comte could not help but feel a spark of pride that his son had developed such strength in his convictions. There was a time not long ago when Raoul would have submitted without question. The boy had finally become a man, and it was this that made Philippe relent, if only a fraction. He cleared his throat. "I will not yet give you my approval for this insanity, Raoul. But…I will make no further attempt to stop you."

Raoul's eyes narrowed. "I expect you will make every effort to show my fiancée respect."

Philippe grunted again. "I will show her no disrespect."

And with that, the first tentative steps to acceptance were taken.

xXx

The first dinner between the de Chagnys and the Girys, while not exactly a rousing success, was certainly amicable enough. Meg had struggled to be every bit proper and polite and keep her more spirited thoughts to herself. Raoul endeavored just as valiantly to make her comfortable with his parents, ever fearful that she would change her mind about joining his family. Much of the conversation had revolved around the common interest of the arts and theater. The Comtess and Madame Giry had discovered they shared quite similar taste in such things, and their pleasant relations had been a great relief to their children.

If the Comte was still not happy with the course of events, he had later grudgingly admitted to his wife to finding the young Mademoiselle Giry to be a very pleasing sort of girl.

xXx

One person would never be pleased by the engagement, and that was none other than Jean Ranier, although Raoul did take great pleasure in telling him of it. Indeed, it was with a happy smile and carefree whistle that le Vicomte de Chagny made his way to the Opera Populaire two days after returning to Paris.

Jean himself had returned just two weeks prior, having had a thoroughly enjoyable search for talent in Northern France. In truth, he had expected the Vicomte's visit a good deal sooner, but his rival had been suspiciously absent. His sources had not seemed to know where the boy had been hiding, but no matter. De Chagny had received the news of Jean's rendezvous with Marguerite just as he'd intended, and now he was eager to twist the knife of jealousy. A simple plan really, divide and conquer.

"Monsieur le Vicomte, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit on this fine afternoon?"

Raoul narrowed his eyes at the man, resisting the urge to call him out. "Monsieur Ranier…I believe you know the business I have with you."

Jean grinned. "I can think of one common interest we have, sir."

Raoul scowled a little more at his tone. "I am fully aware of all your plotting in relation to Mademoiselle Giry, and I am here, in part, to assure you it has been entirely unsuccessful."

Jean smirked. "Not unsuccessful, Monsieur, as the results thus far have been entirely enjoyable."

Raoul's fists clenched tightly at his sides, jealousy assaulting him despite his engagement to Meg. "She has told me everything, Ranier, from your innuendos to your unwanted advances. It will stop as of this moment."

Jean chuckled. "Are you certain she has told you _everything_? Because I recall that my attention was _most_ welcome. Especially during our travels together"

Raoul leaned across the desk. "You think to play upon my jealousy…my unfortunate history…to inspire doubt…but you have severely miscalculated_, sir._ In fact, I should thank you for you devious actions, as they have been the means of casting out all doubt for both myself and Meg."

Ranier's superior expression dimmed, and he growled. "You are a fool if you believe that, Vicomte. Marguerite will always doubt your true feelings."

Raoul straightened and chuckled a little, almost pitying Ranier that he could never realize exactly what his interference had done. "Meg knows my feelings, now more than ever. You see, Ranier, your attempt at driving us apart has only brought us closer together." Raoul's expression hardened. "And you would do well to keep your distance from the my fiancée if you wish to hold on to your patrons. My family does have some considerable influence in Paris."

Jean choked incredulously, "Your _fiancée_?"

Raoul smiled in triumph. "Yes…did I forget to mention that? Meg and I are soon to be married. We will be certain to extend you a formal invitation to our wedding and do so hope you will be able to attend. But of course, we will understand if you cannot."

"You will never make her happy!"

Raoul's smile only widened. "But I will have the lifelong pleasure of trying. Good day, _Monsieur_." Raoul tipped his head and turned to leave, pausing before he turned. "Oh, and…I do hope you managed to find some new talent on your trip…as _my wife_ shall definitely not be gracing your stage."

As he made his way down the hallway, Raoul heard a crash followed by some very colorful language echo from behind him. He began to whistle once again.

_Ah, yes, a very fine afternoon, indeed. _

* * *

**A/N:** I know the last few chapters have been a little RM-lite, but the next ones will make up for it. Sad to say that we're closing in on the end now... Stay tuned. And as always, thank you to my loyal reviewers. 


	31. All That I Can Do

**All That I Can Do**

The engagement of le Vicomte de Chagny to Mademoiselle Marguerite Giry had soon been announced in L'Epoque, and the wedding set to occur in three weeks time. The Comte and Comtess had both endeavored to persuade their son into a longer engagement, although for very different reasons. The Comtess had simply wished for more time to prepare for such a momentous occasion. The Comte, however, had hoped to forestall the inevitable in the tiny remaining hope that his son would see the folly of such a union. But on this, Raoul had not relented. A hasty marriage would leave Meg less time to reconsider the wisdom of her decision…as he feared his mother's fussing and his father's sulking would certainly overwhelm her.

Upon the couple's return to Paris, Meg had informed Francois LeCleur that she would not be returning to his theater. He had been quite expecting this news, and while not pleased to be losing such a fine performer, he was greatly consoled by the fact that he had not lost her to _that scoundrel Ranier_. Of equal consolation to him was the return of Antoinette Giry to Paris and le Soliel.

In the weeks before the wedding, Elise de Chagny did her best to ease Meg into the new role she would be undertaking. On Meg's part, the entire process was thankfully less painful than she had anticipated, as Raoul's mother proved to be a warm accepting woman and the two began a tentative friendship. The Comtess quickly discovered the rather lively sense of humor possessed by her son's fiancée, endearing Meg to her even more. _My son is far too serious at times_, she had said.

In truth, Raoul had greatly abandoned much of his serious nature, a transformation that he credited entirely to Meg. And if they were both forced to behave in public in a manner befitting their status, their time alone was far less restrained. Laughter and lively little conversations were always in abundance, though finding these moments to share grew increasingly difficult amidst the hectic schedule of wedding planning and introductions to society.

Meg made her first formal appearance into society as Raoul's fiancée at the engagement party that Elise de Chagny insisted upon holding at the family estate. She had spent the entire day a nervous wreck, being reassured by Elise and Raoul, and later primped and powdered by the de Chagny maids. Meg did not relish being paraded about so that all the Parisian aristocracy could find fault with her, but she was determined to prove herself a good match for Raoul.

He stood at the bottom of the staircase awaiting her, and when he saw her, his breath caught in his throat. She wore a gown of pale blue that made her eyes sparkle, and her hair was twisted in an upsweep, leaving only a few loose tendrils falling in wisps around her face. She was stunning. He held out his hand to her as she reached the bottom step, and she took it gratefully.

"My God, Meg. You are a vision. I shall have to keep you close to me tonight."

She managed a tremulous smile. "I hope you will, Raoul. Otherwise I might be tempted to run as far and as fast as I can."

He pulled her into the circle of his arms. "Do not even jest about such things, Meg."

Meg sighed. "I suppose you would only come chasing after me and drag me back again."

Raoul grinned. "To the ends of the earth, my love. Come now, you are far braver than this, sweet Meg. Let us make all of Paris jealous tonight."

"If we must…"

He leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss. "I am afraid we must."

They made their way out to their guests, and the careful dance of polite banter began. Much to Meg's chagrin, she and Raoul were soon parted. The Comtess was determined to introduce her to the upper crust, and the Comte pulled his son away to speak with a business associate. Meg struggled to take in all the names and titles that Elise de Chagny recited to her, inwardly cringing at all the raised eyebrows and fake smiles. She overheard more than one whispered comment about 'the little ballet rat,' but she held her head high just as her mother had urged her to. If she could never be thought entirely suitable for the company she was in, at least no one would ever think her a fragile thing.

Caught in a tedious conversation with a Baroness someone or other, Meg was only half paying attention, her eyes searching the room for Raoul. Finding him still being monopolized by his father and looking as desperate to get away as she felt, Meg sighed and resigned herself to answer yet another question about her meager beginnings.

Across the room, Raoul glanced towards Meg again, wishing he could whisk her away from here. He had been raised attending such intolerable affairs and could barely abide them...he could not imagine what Meg must be feeling. Yet she looked to be holding her own.

"Your Marguerite is a truly an exquisite creature, Raoul. You are a lucky man indeed."

Raoul's eyes jerked back to the Marquis de Proust, a jovial older gentleman with whom his father had a long-standing friendship. "Yes, yes I am. Thank you, Henri."

Good humor danced in the older man's eyes. "If I had the good fortune to be her escort, I certainly would not be standing _here_ talking business when she is _there_ looking lovely." The Marquis turned to Philippe de Chagny with raised brows. "Would you Philippe, old man?"

Philippe sighed. "Go on then, Raoul. You've a fiancée to attend to."

Raoul grinned. "Yes…thank you, Father. Henri, I would be most happy to introduce you." The Marquis smiled delightedly and Raoul led him over to Meg.

Her eyes flashed with gratitude at the interruption, and she happily made the acquaintance of the Marquis, who after several moments, quite skillfully monopolized the conversation with the other ladies, leaving Raoul the opportunity to quietly sweep Meg into the garden. Finding a secluded spot, he kissed her soundly and hugged her to him.

"Tell me you are not thinking of ways to escape, sweet Meg."

She sighed. "I could, but I am afraid it would be a lie."

He chuckled. "Then you had best be planning to take me with you."

Meg grinned. "I could be persuaded."

Raoul took that as a challenge, and captured her lips again. After a moment, he pulled back slightly and smiled down at Meg. "Has tonight been very dreadful, my love?"

"Not _very_ dreadful." She snuggled closer into his arms. "It is certainly improving. In fact, I think I will be quite content if I can stay right here and not have to answer one more question about growing up at the Opera House."

Laughter rumbled in his chest. "I hope you have not told anyone the scandalous stories you have told me."

Meg toyed with one of his lapels absentmindedly, murmuring "Mmm. No, but Madame…d'Amboise…I think it was…wanted to know all about the Opera Ghost and if I had ever come face to face with him."

Raoul paused, knowing full well that the woman Meg spoke of was one of the cattiest in Paris. Surely such a line of questioning had been intended to embarrass Meg in some way. "What did you tell her?"

Meg lifted her face to his and raised an eyebrow. "I told her that I had attended his wedding."

Raoul stared at her a moment in surprise, having learned himself not very long ago that Meg had indeed attended that particular wedding. "You didn't?"

She grinned broadly. "I did. She thought it was a grand joke."

Raoul laughed, lifting her into his arms and spinning her around. "Meg…I simply adore you."

The lovers stayed lost in one another for several more moments before reluctantly admitting that they needed to return to the party. Raoul swiftly guided Meg past his mother, father and every other person who might have distracted him from his immediate mission, which was to dance with his fiancée.

He remembered once, many months ago, a conversation where Meg had cheekily told him she preferred dancing to romance…and he had told her he would be envious of whatever partner she chose. At the time, he could not have begun to hope that she would choose him, and now that she had, he wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life dancing with her.

Sweeping her into his arms, he led her in a waltz, and every pair of eyes in the room turned to watch the couple move gracefully around the floor. Including one pair of emerald green eyes that watched from a corner in silence.

* * *

**A/N:** A little laughter...a little dancing...some reviews? 


	32. The Others

**The Others**

Many people would have considered Jean Ranier's presence at the de Chagny engagement party to be in bad taste, but Jean himself never cared much for such people. Life was far too short to deny one's self the joys of living simply for propriety's sake. Always a cunning player in the various games of life, he could admit when he had been defeated, though he did so grudgingly. Marguerite was obviously happy and in love with her vicomte. It seemed she was even managing quite nicely to charm the Paris elite, or so said the general chatter about the room.

Jean really could not afford to have the de Chagny family undermining him with his patrons, but he simply could not have been expected to resist finagling an invitation to this event. After all, he needed to wish the bride good luck.

When the waltz came to an end, it happened that Raoul turned Meg in the direction of the balcony where Jean was standing. It was she who first noticed him, her step and her smile faltering slightly as her eyes locked with his. The vicomte's attention soon followed, and Jean grinned and raised his champagne glass in silent toast.

Across the floor, Raoul tensed. "He has gone too far…gentleman or no…I am going to toss that scoundrel out on his…"

"Raoul, no!" Meg's hand tightened on his arm. "There is no need…he can never tempt me away. I am yours."

Raoul turned to Meg, his eyes softening. "Mine...and I am yours." Then he turned his attention back to Ranier with determination. "But I am still going to toss him off the balcony."

Meg had no reply to that, and she found herself being pulled along with Raoul's purposeful stride. They stopped in front of a grinning Jean.

"Bon soir Monsieur le Vicomte…Marguerite, my dear." His smooth baritone rolled over the endearment.

Meg felt Raoul tense beside her. He did not even attempt to conceal the icy disdain in his voice. "Ranier. I do not believe you were invited here."

Jean raised a brow. "Actually…I was. The Comte was kind enough to extend the invitation whilst we were finalizing the details of his patronage to the Opera Populaire."

Raoul paled slightly. "My father? He would not have…"

"Ah, but he did, Vicomte. How could I refuse?"

Meg sensed Raoul's anger growing and shifting towards his father. For her part, she was certainly hurt by the implication, but not entirely surprised by Jean's presence. The Comtess had warned her that Philippe de Chagny still intended to invest in the Populaire. And for all that Meg had tried to appease Raoul's father and earn his approval, the Comte had seemingly remained rather indifferent to her. She gave a reassuring squeeze to Raoul's arm, but it did nothing to ease his displeasure.

Raoul glared at Jean. "I suppose it _was _impossible for you to refuse, Monsieur, as you do not seem to grasp the meaning of the word _no_."

Jean chuckled. "Touché."

Meg sighed in exasperation. "Jean, you really should not have come here."

His lips curved in amusement. "Marguerite…you know I seldom do what I should. But in this instance, I have only come to extend my best wishes on your marriage."

Meg's brows rose. "You have almost managed to sound sincere."

Raoul huffed. "Did he? I certainly did not hear it."

Jean ignored Raoul and kept his attention focused on Meg. "Despite what you may think of me…I have always wished for you to be happy." With a sly grin he added, "I cannot help if I feel you would be happier with me."

Raoul growled. "Ranier…one more word along those lines and I swear we will be stepping outside!"

Jean sighed. "Relax, Monsieur. You have won the day, and I congratulate you. Both you and your lovely bride shall always be welcome at my Opera."

He turned to Meg again and reached for her hand. "Mademoiselle?" Glancing briefly to Raoul, she reluctantly extended it and Jean pressed one last lingering kiss there. "I wish you every happiness, my dear Marguerite."

Meg smiled a little, ever conscious of Raoul's tense form beside her. "Thank you, Jean."

Releasing her, Jean slanted a look to Raoul which seemed to say, _if you disappoint her, I will be there. _Giving a curt little nod, Jean bid the adieu and moved off into the crowd.

Raoul watched Ranier's retreat with a deep frown, his eyes still heated in anger. Meg turned towards him and took his hands in hers. "Do not make more of this than you should, Raoul."

His eyes turned suddenly pensive. "How can I not? My father has gone behind my back to go into business with that…sneaky, underhanded…rogue. And to have invited him here tonight, knowing my feelings on the matter, is unforgivable."

"You mustn't say that, Raoul. Perhaps the Comte meant no harm…the Opera Populaire is a sound investment, after all."

"You are far too kind, Meg. My father has some ulterior motive, of this I am certain."

"Whatever he intends, I am certain your mother will not stand for it."

Raoul smiled slightly. "She has become quite fond of you, my love."

She smiled back. "And I of her."

"I am glad of that. But even so, I will be having a discussion with my father about his business dealings."

"But not tonight, Raoul. Tonight I wish to dance with my fiancée again."

"Are you attempting to distract me?"

She grinned. "Is it working?"

He smiled and dropped his forehead to hers. "Yes, very well."

Raoul led Meg to dance once again and for as long as the music played, the night belonged only to them.

xXx

As he had promised, Raoul had not confronted his father the rest of the evening. Guests trickled out into the night, happy and exhausted, Monsieur LeCleur and Madame Giry being the last to leave. The Comtess had asked them both if they wished to stay the night, as the house had more than enough guestrooms, but they had both politely declined. Meg, however, was settled into her very own room that the Comtess had insisted upon preparing for her. It was silently understood that the future Vicomtess should not be sleeping in a boarding house.

Early the next morning, Raoul made his way to his father's office, knowing the Comte was a creature of habit. His father always arose at dawn and enjoyed a cigar while reviewing his papers. Rapping swiftly on the door, he did not even wait for his father's response before he entered. Glancing up from the papers he was studying, Philippe de Chagny raised his brows at his son.

"Raoul. I had not expected you to be up and about at this early hour after last evening's excitement."

"Last evening's _excitement _is precisely the reason I must speak with you, Father. I demand to know what you are plotting with Ranier."

Sighing heavily, Philippe leaned back in his chair. "I have reinvested in the Opera."

Raoul eyed his father carefully, waiting for some further explanation. There was none. "Is that all the answer I am to expect?"

"It is all there is. You, yourself, introduced me to the man, Raoul. Was I expected to pass on an exceptional business opportunity simply to soothe your ego?"

Raoul leaned over his father's desk. "You were expected to remain loyal to your son. Instead you extended that man an invitation into this house."

Philippe nodded slowly. "I confess I did have other reasons for that."

Raoul straightened. "I knew it! What did you hope to gain, Father? Did you think to cause a scene…embarrass Meg?"

Philippe leaned forward now, his eyes flashing. "No! You have misunderstood my motives, Raoul."

"Then kindly enlighten me."

"I told you I would make no attempt to stop your marriage, and I have not. I only wanted to be certain…"

Raoul's eyes darkened. "Certain? Did you mean to make _certain _that Ranier would do your dirty work for you?"

Philippe's eyes filled with pain. "No! I meant to make certain you would not be hurt again, Raoul."

Raoul stared at his father in angry confusion. "By inviting my rival to steal the woman I love away from me?"

"I did no such thing! The de Chagny patronage is on the condition that Ranier _not_ interfere further in your relationship with Marguerite. His presence here last evening was at his own request…to wish you both well. I…could not see the harm in it, as your Meg is obviously in love with you. Indeed, I thought if Ranier were to see you both together in such obvious happiness, he could have no choice but to quietly concede."

Raoul raised his brows in surprise. "Happiness? I thought you believed my engagement to _yet another actress_ to be insanity."

Philippe colored in embarrassment. "Yes…well…the girl…is actually rather… exceptional…all things considered."

Raoul was taken aback by his father's confession, then he grinned suddenly. "Careful, Father. I might think you've actually come to like my fiancée."

Sitting back in his chair again, Philippe de Chagny bristled. "I certainly do not dislike her."

Raoul leaned over the desk once again with a happy smile on his face. "She will be most pleased to hear that."

Indeed, upon hearing of the conversation, Meg was most pleased. And, though he would never admit it, the Comte de Chagny was most pleased when Meg placed a happy kiss to his weathered cheek after he had finally given them his official blessing.

* * *

**A/N:** Perhaps a bit redundant in fact, but I felt the need for a little closure between Jean and Meg, and Raoul and his father. Two birds...one stone. Just two more chapters to go. Next up...the highly anticipated wedding. 


	33. Speak For Me

**Speak For Me**

If anyone thought the marriage of le Vicomte and his bride to be food for gossip, certainly no one ever doubted the depth of their love for one another. It was evident in the matching expressions of joy etched on their faces as they stood before God and family to vow their love.

Meg wore an exquisite gown of white trimmed in beads and lace, and a smile meant solely for Raoul. He stood in awe of her, drinking in the sight, memorizing the moment to keep with him for all his days. He had dressed in his finest morning suit, his hair tied back, and his own expression one of such open adoration that it was clear to all that the new Vicomtess would never want for anything.

The reception that followed at the de Chagny estate was a rather strange mix of aristocracy and actors. Ballerinas danced with barons, tenors and dukes traded tales of their various…conquests, and generally so much merriment was made that there was little room for gossip. With wine in abundance, no one but Antoinette Giry, who was dancing in the arms of Francois LeCleur, even seemed to notice when Raoul swept his new bride into his arms and the couple disappeared up the grand staircase.

xXx

Raoul and Meg had slipped away from the reception after dancing several dances as husband and wife. But one dance tempted them beyond any other, and they were finally free to claim it. The decision to slip away had been a silent one, each somehow knowing the other was intending the same thing. Raoul had simply taken his wife's hand and led her upstairs. Only when they were alone in the hallway did they surrender to their darker desires, their kiss promising the union that they had both denied themselves for so long.

Raoul lifted Meg easily into his arms, carrying her the remaining steps to their chamber. They never broke contact as he set her carefully down and reached blindly for the door. His fingers tripped over the knob slightly as Meg's little hands found their way under his waistcoat. Finally, the door gave and he backed his wife into the room.

_His wife._

He broke their kiss and looked at her with a boyish grin lighting his face. Meg grinned back, then she began to tug his cravat loose. Her breathless voice held a trace of humor. "Raoul, we really shouldn't have snuck away. People will talk."

He shucked his coat. "Mmm…yes. They will say what a lucky man I am to have such a beautiful wife."

She worked open the buttons of his vest with trembling fingers. "Perhaps they will think I am the lucky one to have such a rich, handsome husband."

Raoul raised his brows. "Rich? So you have married me for my money, then?"

Meg caressed his handsome cheek, her eyes growing serious for a moment. "No, my love." Then she smiled wickedly, suddenly teasing again. "I have most definitely married you entirely for your body."

He paused a second at her saucy words, then laughed, saying a silent prayer that this amazing woman was his. He pulled her back into the circle of his arms. "Ahh, then I shall certainly oblige you, sweet Meg."

And so he did. He kissed his wife thoroughly, then turned her slowly to unbutton the tiny fastenings of her gown. The material loosened and he pressed a kiss to her shoulder, whispering, "I love you."

Meg smiled softly, shivering in anticipation. "And I love you, Monsieur le Vicomte."

Raoul grinned again. "Now is certainly not the time for formality, Madame Vicomtess."

Meg let her gown drop away and turned, standing before him in her corset and undergarments. Despite the blush that was deepening on her cheeks, she smiled and looped her arms around Raoul's neck. "Then we must endeavor to become more…_familiar_…with one another."

Pulling his head down, she kissed him, welcoming her husband with open arms. Somewhere in the midst of feather touches and whispers of need, the last barriers between them fell away. Raoul took great pleasure in removing the pins from Meg's hair, combing his fingers through her golden curls. She took equal pleasure in ever so slowly pushing the material of his shirt away from his broad shoulders and placing a kiss to his chest.

They lovingly tarried over every little task, savoring each discovery until only one remained. Upon the elegant four poster bed, they stilled for one moment more to savor the beauty of their embrace. Their eyes met, their lips curved into nervous smiles, they whispered words of love, of desire, of promise and of certainty, and then there were no words at all. Only the sweet music of two hearts becoming one.

It was deep into the night before they finally drifted into blissful sleep, tangled together in dreams of love.

xXx

As the dawn kissed the horizon, Meg drifted awake with a most pleasant weight draped across her waist. Upon further discovery, she found it to be an arm. Details of the night before came filtering back into her conscious mind and she smiled dreamily, stretching experimentally, only to encounter a warm solid form at her back. _Her husband_. She sighed happily as she felt his lips press against her naked shoulder.

She turned slightly in his arms, a blush quickly spreading over her entire body at the memory of their lovemaking…and at the wicked urge to begin it all again. Raoul had been so tender with her the first time, even as he had struggled to contain his own urgent needs. But Meg had soon discovered her own needs matched his, and they had spent most of the night indulging in one another.

Raoul had cherished every moment. He had never dared dream that he could find such a woman as his Meg. He loved her so very much, and to wake with her in his arms had been a joy beyond any he had known before. She was, quite simply, perfect for him.

He grinned at her. "Good morning, wife."

Meg smiled, laughter dancing in her eyes. "Good morning, husband."

His grin turned slightly rakish. "What shall we do on our first day as husband and wife, sweet Meg?"

She shifted a little more until she was completely facing him. Raising an eyebrow at his suggestive tone, Meg teased him. "Perhaps we might return to the city…to stroll by the Seine? Or lunch at La Belle Etoile?"

He frowned in mock annoyance. "Surely you can think of a more…_enjoyable_ endeavor."

Meg laughed. "I suppose I can think of one…"

She kissed him thoroughly, their playfulness giving way to passion once again. Their first day as husband and wife was spent in perfect, blissful contentment. Indeed, it was only for the sake of propriety that they emerged from their private haven at all that day. Propriety…and their need for sustenance.

Having missed breakfast, they sat for a late lunch, both fighting the heated blushes that were to be expected of a newly married couple thrust back into proper society after having been lost in abandon. Thankfully, the Comte and Comtess had left the young couple to their privacy.

A bit later, Philippe would share a brandy with his son and laughingly slap the boy on his back to congratulate him on a fine start to ensuring a de Chagny heir. And while Raoul had colored in embarrassment at his father's boldness, he could not stop the warmth of pleasure at the thought of such a thing.

_A child with my eyes and Meg's smile,_ he had thought.

But there would be more than time enough to think on such things. Raoul meant to enjoy every moment with his wife, and indeed, he spent the rest of the evening doing precisely that.

* * *

**A/N:** I hope those of you eagerly awaiting this installment were not terribly disappointed. I confess I am not very good at love scenes, and I didn't want to venture beyond my **T** rating. 

I am sad to say that only one chapter remains for our newlyweds.


	34. Little Conversations Are We

**Little Conversations Are We**

The Vicomte and Vicomtess de Chagny delayed their honeymoon trip only long enough to attend the reopening gala of the Opera Populaire. The de Chagny family had occupied a private box, not Box 5, which, true to Jean's word, was left open as a kind of good luck talisman. Although Meg and Raoul had attended performances at le Soliel prior to their wedding, Meg found being a mere spectator at this particular performance to be a bit more difficult. The opera house had been, after all, her home...her life...for so long. Raoul had noticed his wife's melancholy and worried that she was longing for her former life, but Meg quickly assured him that she would not give him up for all the stages in Paris. If Raoul had experienced his own bout with melancholy at being once again at the Populaire, his wife never saw it.

The newlyweds had soon embarked on a romantic journey through France, and had even spent one week at the seaside in Dover. The little visit had pleased Meg greatly, and Raoul found he could quite happily dedicate his life to his wife's pleasure.

Indeed, it was with great pleasure that Meg would inform her husband a few months later that the de Chagny family was soon to be increasing.

For her part, the suspicion that she carried a child had crept upon Meg slowly, as she had lacked the usual symptoms of such a momentous change. Even the most telling symptom that should have alerted her by its very absence had gone unnoticed, as her body had never really conformed itself to a regular monthly clock to begin with. It was only as her corsets became more uncomfortable and her bodices more snug that Meg fully realized the wondrous possibility and had gone scurrying to the doctor for confirmation.

Cherishing her secret inside, she had practically floated home to Raoul, somehow resisting the urge to fling herself into his arms immediately and tell him her news. Instead she had patiently waited until they'd retired to the parlor after dinner, where she'd ordered him to sit and promptly settled onto his lap, looping her arms around his neck.

After more than three months of marriage, and all the months of their courtship prior, Raoul had come to know his wife fairly well, and the glimmer in her eyes was certainly a warning that something was afoot.

"What mischief are you up to, sweet Meg?"

She raised a brow. "Mischief? Why must I be up to any mischief?"

"Because I know that look in your eyes, love. You had it just before you convinced me that we should visit with Christine and Erik on our honeymoon."

Meg grinned, snuggling closer. "If I recall, you rather enjoyed being convinced."

Raoul smiled back. "I did at that. So what is it to be this time?"

Meg's smile widened. "Well…I cannot say for certain yet. I suppose we shall have to wait another six months or so."

His brows dropped in confusion. "Six months?"

She nodded and reached down to take his hand and settle it over her lower abdomen. "Mm. We've made this bit of mischief together, my love."

His confused look suddenly cleared, turning into one of shock, and his fingers flexed against her belly. "You mean to say…you…we…a baby?"

She smiled, happy tears falling from her eyes. "Yes. You're to be a father, Raoul."

He closed his eyes a moment, savoring the words… _A father_… and when he opened them again, there were tears of joy. He shifted Meg across his lap so that he could hold her even closer to him, pressing his hand back over the spot where their child grew within her. "Oh, my sweet, sweet Meg…I love you so."

Meg whispered through her own joyous tears. "And I you."

The kiss Raoul bestowed upon his wife's lips was full of reverence, and he was soon asking if she was well, what the doctor had said, what he should do. Meg had laughed and kissed him soundly to stop his rambling, which had led to the question of whether or not they could still...

They could, and they did.

xXx

Raoul proved to be the horribly overprotective sort when it came to his wife and unborn child, and Meg really could not complain. Indeed, his fussing only made him all the more adorable to her, even in her more irritable moments, of which there were quite a few. The joy they both felt expanded daily, along with Meg's figure.

Philippe Anton Raoul de Chagny loudly made his entrance into the world just nine months after his parents' wedding night - to the proud delight of both his mother and father. And to the delighted pride of Comte Philippe, who, grinning broadly, had happily told his wife that he'd known all along that their son had made the right choice in his marriage. Elise had merely rolled her eyes and said, _of course, dear._

In the years that would follow, Meg and Raoul proved to be loving and attentive parents, and their children benefited much from their father's gentle kindness and their mother's good humor. The de Chagny home was often filled with laughter and music…and much dancing was done.

Life moved along as it must. The couple attended the theater regularly, often sitting in one of the boxes of the Opera Populaire…which Monsieur Ranier had indeed elevated far beyond its former glory. And if that gentleman still took immense pleasure in annoying Raoul through a continued flirtation with his wife, Meg could always soothe her husband in her own unique way.

Naturally, expanding families had taken precedence over old friends more often than not, but Meg all her life maintained a constant correspondence with her dearest friend. From time to time, the de Chagnys would venture to London, where the Rousseaus had eventually settled with their children. When in the city, Meg and Raoul would often attended performances at the London Royal Opera, renowned throughout Europe for both the exquisite talent of its diva, Madame Christine Rousseau, and the brilliant operas composed by her husband, Monsieur Erik Rousseau.

And as for the story of the Phantom…it lived on, changing over time with each telling, until few could remember what was truth and what was fantasy. But for Raoul de Chagny, only one truth of the tale would ever really matter, and he would often smile and look to Meg. He had found his happy ending in the arms of his very own angel.

_**Fin**_

* * *

**A/N:** Well that's it…we've finally reached the end of this story. I'm sad to have it end, but it's been a joy to write and revise and reread. Thank you all so much for stepping into my world for awhile. 

During the course of writing this, I began to feel as if I'd short-changed Erik and Christine a bit, so I am even now revising _Angels & Phantoms_ so that I might be happier with it. I cannot say what inspiration will strike after that.

One final thank you from the bottom of my heart to those of you who took the time to review. I invite you all to let me know what you think of the story now that it's complete.

Every chapter sprang from a 'little conversation' that I envisioned the characters having. Some of you may have noticed my chapter titles have little to do with the actual content (apart from the two interludes.) They are all little snippets from the lyrics of an obscure song by an obscure band that started playing through my head again after I chose the title for the fic. So my thanks to Concrete Blonde for that.

Once again, thank you dear readers for sharing this with me.


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